Ruins
by TheFictionalMe
Summary: Five times Peter told Gamora to go right, and one time he didn't. Peter/Gamora, Infinity War spoilers, lots of hurt!Peter, fluff, and angst. "Why does somebody always have to die in this scenario?"
1. Chapter 1

**Well, Infinity War nearly broke me (and pretty much anyone else who has seen it), and of course dragged me kicking and screaming back into this fandom. What a bunch of a-holes, giving me _ALL_ the feels.**

 **I needed some therapy after what Peter and Gamora and the rest of the Guardians went through in IW, so here's my attempt at that.**

 **Warnings for a little fluff, a lot of ANGST, hurt/comfort (I'm a sucker for Peter whump tbh), spoilers for Infinity War and of course both Guardians movies.**

 **Hope my characterization is okay, this bunch is** _ **not**_ **easy to write, and this is my first attempt (well first published attempt at least-hopefully there will be more after this!).**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Fictional**

* * *

 **One**

At the end of everything, it's only natural to look back at the beginning.

Looking back, Gamora knows exactly the moment she implicitly put her trust in Peter, even in those early days of them working together, when taking on Ronan seemed like an impossible task.

It was the exact pivotal turning point in her life that she has not been able to look back from since.

Nor does she want to, if she's being honest with herself.

The Guardians, and _Peter_ , are the best thing that have ever happened to her, and she doesn't have any regrets about that.

Except for Thanos dragging the rest of them down with her.

* * *

"So, what is the rest of your plan, Quill?"

Peter sighs at Gamora's question, looking anxiously at the door where Yondu and the rest of the Ravagers are about to come in any moment, to hear how they are going to take down Ronan before he can destroy Xandar. They will definitely be expecting more than 12% of a plan.

He looks over at Gamora, hands on his hips, before turning to face the rest of their newly formed rag-tag team, standing in a circle, Rocket's snark of _bunch of jackasses_ still lingering in the air.

"Okay, if we can figure out how to get on Ronan's ship, there's this device called..."

"The Hadron Enforcer," Rocket interrupts knowingly, jumping off of the box he was perched on and coming closer to him.

"Yeah, as I was saying," Peter agrees, quirking an eyebrow in annoyance, "so we take the Hadron..."

"Wait, what is a Hadron Enforcer?" Drax asks quizzically. "I have never heard of such a device."

"That's because your idea of a plan is to call the enemy to your direct location, throw some fancy knives at 'im, and _still_ get your ass kicked!" Rocket snaps back, evidently still sore about that particular subject.

"You speak of matters of which you do not understand," Drax grumbles in response, standing up taller. "The next time we face Ronan, I will not be defeated."

"Guys," Peter throws up his hands in exasperation now, "we're really getting away from the point of the plan here..."

Gamora looks back and forth as Quill tries to wrangle in the others with no success, and to her own surprise, has to suppress a laugh. What a team they all make. They can't get along for more than five minutes.

But, they may be Xandar's last hope, and even if none of them survive this, Gamora had meant what she said.

She would rather die with these new _friends_ , the only friends she has ever really had, than stand by and watch Ronan decimate an entire innocent population.

She's already lived through that once because of Thanos, and she won't do it again.

"I am Groot," Groot says then with a clearly disapproving tone, chiding Rocket.

"So what if Drax wasn't thinking clearly when he called Ronan on Knowhere, we can't have emotions dictating our moves every time, we've already got to deal enough with that with Quill!" Rocket defends himself, pointing at Peter.

"Hey, wait a minute," Peter protests at that, frowning heavily. "I'm not the one who...you know what, whatever, it doesn't matter, can we just get back to the plan now?"

"Yes," Gamora replies firmly, and he gives her what she thinks might be a look of relief and maybe gratitude. She can't help but smile slightly, giving a short nod of encouragement in return. "Continue with your plan, Quill. The rest of us," she narrows her eyes at the other Guardians, "will listen."

"Thank you," Peter tells her sincerely, if not with a little surprise. "As I was saying, we'll use the Hadron Enforcer to take down Ronan once we corner him on the ship."

"It should be powerful enough to counteract his power with the Infinity Stone," Gamora agrees firmly with his idea. Quill might be better at this whole team-leader thing than she has really given him credit for.

"Yeah, great, there's just one problem with that...how do we get on his ship?" Rocket asks skeptically, crossing his short arms across his chest.

"I'm still working on that part," Peter sighs with a shrug. "But once we're on there, Gamora and I will go left to find Ronan, and Drax and Groot will go right to try and hold off his goons, and Rocket you'll be outside blasting..."

"No," Gamora corrects him quickly.

"What?" Peter blinks at her. "From what we know of the ship so far, Ronan's quarters..."

"Are to the left, yes," Gamora continues, gesturing with her hands, "but the minute he knows we're on the ship, he will activate an impenetrable security door to lock us out. There is a power source across the ship that will deactivate the door. That," she raises a knowing eyebrow, "is to the right."

Peter nods slowly, giving her a wry but amused look. "Okay, okay, new plan. Gamora will go to the _right_ , and deactivate the power source, Drax and Groot will come with me to take on Ronan with the Hadron Enforcer, and Rocket you will stay outside the ship to take out Ronan's guys and keep the Ravagers in line."

"Now that," Gamora looks reassuringly at him, "sounds like a plan."

Peter gives her what is definitely a grateful smile this time, before the heavy metal door suddenly swings open, and Yondu and his men come striding into the room.

"Well, boy," he drawls expectantly, coming to stop next to the Guardians, Kraglin flanking him on the left, "let's hear this brilliant plan of yers. I ain't got all day."

Peter grins confidently, his demeanor quickly shifting to one of someone who knows what he's doing, even if it's barely more than 12 percent. "So here's what we're gonna do..."

Gamora follows him that day, deciding to put her trust in Peter Quill and this mismatched group they call a team, and never looks back.

* * *

 **Part two coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey hey! First thing, thank you SO much to Guest and Aerilon for your reviews last chap and everyone who faved/followed, you rock!**

 **So, the first chap was short and a little more filler, but the rest of this series will be longer and have more of a real plot each, I swear on Peter Quill's mother (...too soon?).**

 **Warnings for a little bit of angst and a lot a bit of fluff for this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer (necessary?): Not my characters** _ **or**_ **song lyrics, just borrowing them to play in my literary sandbox for a while.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Two**

Peter is missing.

Gamora is the first one who realizes that he's gone, and she silently curses herself for not noticing that he had even disappeared in the first place. It's not like her to not pay attention to her surroundings, to not have tabs on every member of their team at all times...but somehow, she's lost track of him in the crowded bar.

They're all celebrating, on one of the nicer ports on a planet not far from Xandar, having just completed a successful job for a lot of units—and for once, surprisingly—minimal violence. They've been in high demand since defeating Ronan and saving Xandar, and it seems this whole Guardians of the Galaxy thing is actually going to stick.

Gamora quickly scans the bar, looking for any sign of Peter, making sure he isn't hiding in a back booth or flirting with the group of attractive Krylorian women up at the other side of the bar. Although, to be honest, she hasn't seen Peter even _talk_ to another female outside of job negotiations since they've become a team...and she tries not to think too hard about why that is.

It's no secret that Peter is attracted to her, but Gamora refuses to look any further past it than that. They are _friends_ , and Gamora is still getting used to just the idea of that, since she has never had any friends before in life to speak of until now.

They are friends, and teammates. And that is more than enough.

Or so she keeps telling herself, more often than she is willing to admit.

"Where's Peter?" Gamora asks Drax, half yelling above the noise, as Drax slaps the bar top, holding his side as he laughs hilariously at something Rocket has just said.

They are both currently too drunk to function, or even answer her question for that matter. Rocket can barely breathe he is laughing so hard, and she has to take a deep breath to keep her cool.

"Hey," she tries again, a scowl crossing her face, leaning in closer. She's not worried, she's _not_. She just needs to know where he's gone. "Have you seen Peter?"

"I tho'ght 'e wasss w'th you," Rocket finally slurs, catching his breath. He sways dangerously on his barstool as he takes another drink, nearly toppling off of his chair.

"As did I," Drax agrees, smiling stupidly at her. He takes his full glass and downs the contents in one gulp before slapping his hand on the bar again, startling the less-than-amused bartender at the other end. "Bring me another!" His booming voice echoes throughout the bar, causing several patrons to turn and look at them disapprovingly. This is a fancy place, much nicer than their usual shady dive and back alley bars, but they had gotten paid well and no one had died, so Peter had insisted that they come here and _live it up_ , for a change.

Except that now he was gone, and the rest of the team are completely wasted and one drink short of causing a scene. They are absolutely no help.

Gamora huffs out a breath in irritation, telling herself to relax, that it's not a big deal. Peter is probably fine, he didn't even seem that drunk this time. If anything, he had been strangely quiet all night, but any time Gamora or any of the other Guardians had asked him what was wrong, he had simply put on his trademark grin and deftly changed the subject.

If Peter had a superpower, his way with words and distractions would most definitely be it.

And his dancing, if Drax was to be believed.

"I was gone for less than five minutes," Gamora sighs, crossing her arms as she eyes the two of them, her patience quickly wearing thin. "I got some water for Groot, and you lost him in that amount of time?"

"I am Groot!" a tiny voice calls her attention from the bar top, and Gamora turns to face the tiny tree, just freshly out of his pot. She can't help but smile warmly at him, despite her irritation with the others.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault," she reassures him gently, patting him on the head. Groot beams at her, looking relieved, as if it was somehow his responsibility to keep an eye on their wayward captain.

"I am Groot." Then the little tree yawns, eyes heavy with sleep. Gamora frowns again, turning back towards Rocket.

"We should get Groot back to the ship also. A bar is no place for him."

"Ah, c'mon Gamoraaaa," Rocket protests, eyes glassy, "why you gotta sssuck out all th' fun?"

"The tree child is safe with us," Drax bellows, not realizing that his already loud voice is becoming increasingly louder the drunker he gets. The entire bar can hear him when he talks, but he doesn't know or care.

"You two have already lost Peter, and he's a grown adult," Gamora grouses, raising a skeptical eyebrow at them. "And you really think that Groot is safe with you?"

"First o' all, Quill barely countsss as an adult," Rocket snarks, taking another swig of his drink. He sets it down harder on the bar than he means too, reflexes becoming more uncoordinated. "Sssecond of all, Groot'll be fine w' us. We ain't gonna lose 'im, are we Drax?"

"We shall not," Drax firmly agrees, and Gamora swears his voice rattles some bottles on the shelves behind the bar this time. "He will not be lost in our care."

She sighs heavily, shaking her head at them. She's almost certain they are each seeing two of her at this point, but she needs to find Peter, and it doesn't look like they are going anywhere anytime soon. She'll just have to hope that they're right, and that Groot doesn't go missing _next_.

"Fine," she replies shortly, "then you stay here, and I'll go find Peter. Keep an eye on Groot until I get back, and then we are going back to the ship."

"Yes mam'm," Rocket mock salutes her sloppily, breaking into a fit of laughter that could almost be classified as giggles. Drax's boisterous laugh joins in, as Groot just looks back and forth between them in confusion, not understanding what was so funny.

Gamora gives Rocket a death glare, and even in his inebriated state, he recognizes it and stops laughing immediately.

He sighs, rubbing his paws across his eyes as if he is trying to focus on her. "C'mon, Gamora. I'm sssure Quill 's fine. He prolly passed out some'here, or went back to th' ship. Ooor he got ina fight an' he's gettin' his ass kicked right now."

And honestly, that was what Gamora had been afraid of. Saving Xandar and killing Ronan has made them as many allies as enemies, and she is afraid maybe someone got the jump on Peter while their backs were turned and they were unprepared for an attack.

"Indeed, Quill is the weakest of us, by far," Drax muses, taking another long draw of his new drink. Gamora can't believe the bartender is still serving him. "But perhaps he will use his galaxy saving dance moves once again. I would not worry."

Gamora internally groans, shaking her head at the pair of them. "Either way, I'm going to go find him, and then we're leaving." She leans closer, giving them both a no nonsense look. "All of us."

"Fineeee," Rocket huffs like a petulant child, before gesturing at Drax. "You go fin' Star Dork. We'll be h're til then."

"Fine," Gamora nods stiffly, before adding, "leave on your communicators." The _just in case Peter is in trouble_ rings silently but clearly between them. He had clearly turned his off when he left—or maybe it had been turned off for him, she worries—so she has no way of reaching him on it, and she doesn't want the same issue with the rest of the team.

Drax nods in understanding, slurping down the rest of his drink and gesturing at the bartender for yet another, while Rocket nearly falls off of his stool yet again.

Gamora has had enough, and she marches off, determined to find Peter and then drag her ridiculous friends off of this planet.

* * *

There is no sign of him outside the bar, as she looks down the street in both directions. This is a nice area, and very quiet at this late hour, no seedy activity going on where they are, for once. It's eerily still, and Gamora pauses, listening for any sounds of a fight or even the telltale sounds of Peter's Walkman, which she can hear at times faintly at a distance with her advanced hearing, if there is no background noise.

Nothing but peaceful silence meets her ears, but it does nothing to put her at ease. If someone had actually gotten to Peter, they could have taken him anywhere by now, right under their noses, and they'd never know what happened.

But this also isn't the type of establishment where a scuffle would have gone unnoticed, and the most debaucherous thing happening right now within a 100 feet of this place are Rocket and Drax.

She frowns, not really knowing where to look, or _why_ she is so unreasonably worried about him. Peter is fine, Peter can handle himself. He did grow up with Yondu and the Ravagers after all, and he is the only one who can keep their rag-tag team functioning as an actual unit, even when they don't listen to him half of the time.

She wanders the nearby streets for a short while, looking in a few other bars and finding no sign of him, before she gives up, huffing in frustration because she doesn't know where else to look, and heads for their ship docked nearby.

As she gets close to the _Milano_ , she pauses, her hand hovering over the port side door. If she concentrates, she can hear the faintest echo of music coming from the _Milano's_ speakers inside, and she feels her heart speed up.

Peter is here. He _has_ to be.

She quickly opens the door, stepping inside and walking up the ramp. Now that she is inside, she can clearly hear the music in the speakers, and it is definitely one of the tapes that Peter has from his mother. The first one, if she can place it correctly. He plays them so often on repeat that all of the Guardians basically know them by heart at this point.

"Peter?" she calls out, but gets no answer. She heads towards the front of the ship, towards the cockpit, where the music is louder. The music isn't up full volume, like Peter likes to do when he wants to drive them all crazy, but it's on at a rather low, pleasant volume, just loud enough that the lyrics can clearly be hear.

 _Find it, come on and find it_

 _Hell with it baby cause you're fun and you're mine_

 _And you look so devine_

 _Come and get your love_

She climbs quietly up the ladder, scanning the the cockpit quickly, until she finally sees him.

Peter is there, leaning back in the captain's chair, eyes closed and humming along to the music, tapping his foot and nodding his head to the beat ever so slightly. Gamora can't help the immense relief that floods her at seeing him safe and in one piece, and she silently berates herself for being so unnecessarily concerned in the first place.

He doesn't seem to know she is even there, lost in the music, and old habits die hard and she had very stealthily climbed the ladder into the cockpit. She waits for a minute, lips pursed as she just watches him, lost in the music and his thoughts. She doesn't want to intrude on the moment.

Only seconds later, Peter tenses, as if he suddenly feels someone else's presence in the room with him, and his eyes fly open. He turns to see Gamora standing a little ways behind him, and he's so startled that he tries to jump up, nearly tumbling to the floor as he flails out of his seat.

"Oh!" he utters in surprise, righting himself somehow at the last minute and not hitting the floor. He rubs a hand roughly down his face, before looking back at her. "Uh, hey, Gamora. I didn't know you were back."

She smiles at him, until she notices that his eyes are suspiciously red-rimmed and have a sad, haunted look in them, the same look he had been trying to hide earlier in the bar when he had been so quiet. She frowns, but decides not to comment on it for the time being. "Yes, I just returned."

"Oh, I thought you guys were having fun," Peter comments absently, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away from her gaze. He looks decidedly uncomfortable, and Gamora has a feeling that she's walked in on something private, that maybe he didn't want the others to see.

"We were," she answers with a shrug, before continuing dryly, "Rocket and Drax _still_ are."

"So, uh," he looks back at her quizzically, "what are _you_ doing back here then?"

Gamora looks at him steadily, as if that should be obvious. "Looking for you."

Peter just stares at her for a moment, as if he can't comprehend what she's just said. "...looking for me?"

"Yes," she sounds slightly exasperated now. "You disappeared without a word at the bar."

He looks down at his feet for a moment, studying his boots as if they are the most interesting thing in the world while he avoids her gaze. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to ditch out like that."

Gamora slowly comes closer until she is standing right in front of him. She realizes now with a pang that he did it on _purpose_ , leaving when she was distracted getting Groot water, knowing that the others wouldn't even notice in their inebriated state if he slipped away. At this realization, she eyes him with concern.

"Why did you _ditch out_ then?" she asks carefully, the decidedly Terran phrase feeling foreign on her tongue.

Peter sighs heavily, finally looking up and giving her a chagrined look. "I don't know...I guess I was tired."

Gamora frowns at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She knows a lie when she sees one, especially with as well as she is getting to know him now. "Peter."

"I just," he shrugs, before plastering on a clearly fake smile. His eyes are red and sad and his smile is strained, as if he can't hide it from her anymore, but he's still trying to deny it. "Just wanted to come back and listen to my music, is all."

"You had your Walkman at the bar," she points out knowingly, because although she doesn't want to pry, she does want to be a good friend, and she knows something is going on with him. "You could have just as easily listened to it then."

Peter opens and closes his mouth, as if he's run out of excuses. He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping slightly, before he turns away. "It's not a big deal, or anything. I just wanted a little time to myself. It's nothing against you guys."

Gamora hums her agreement, because she _does_ get that. The _Milano_ isn't built for a full crew, and space is definitely cramped with all of them on it now, and they've all been living independent lives for so long, so it is still a big adjustment for them all to live and work and basically spend all of their free time together.

But Peter still seems upset, about _something_ , and Gamora wants to help. She just doesn't know how. Peter is the one that is good at this type of thing, at emotions, at _words_ , not her. But still, she has to try. That's what friends do, she thinks. And Peter is the closest friend she has.

"Are you...alright?" she asks hesitantly, taking another step closer to him, which causes him to look back at her again.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," he gives her yet another false smile, and she can see right through it. "Promise."

"You don't seem fine," she challenges a little too firmly, before pausing, realizing she needs to try a different approach. "I mean, you seem upset. And I," she pauses again, not sure how to express her concern into words, before she fumbles ahead, "I want to help."

"You do?" Peter blurts out, eyes wide with surprise at her admission. He quickly recovers his shock, realizing that his words aren't very helpful either as Gamora just stares at him. "Well, I mean, does that mean...you're worried about me or something?"

His tone is so genuinely surprised and ridiculously hopeful that Gamora can't help but smile, but she rolls her eyes at the same time for good measure. "Yes, Peter. I am worried about you. You are my friend, and I," she reaches out and pats him hesitantly on the arm, "want to help."

Peter breaks into a smile this time, the first genuine one that she's seen from him all night. "Wow, Gamora, that's really nice. No, seriously though. Thanks for worrying about me."

And it all would have been a perfectly sweet moment if Peter didn't then exaggeratedly wink at her right after, a cocky grin crossing his face.

She raises her eyebrows again at his smirk, trying to look unimpressed. "Does this mean you're going to tell me why you're upset?"

His smile immediately falls, and Gamora immediately regrets asking him. He looks away again, looking lost in his own thoughts, and she quickly tries to backtrack.

"I'm sorry, Peter," she apologies quickly, sounding sincere. "If you do not wish to discuss it, you don't have to. I do not want to make you feel worse."

Peter's head snaps back up to look at her, and he quickly shakes his head, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder once in reassurance. She is becoming more and more used to physical touch, because Peter is a tactile person, with almost everyone, and she has come to expect these little touches from him, and finds her returning them more often than not now too.

She even dances with him now, on occasion. Just slow songs, nothing fancy, just swaying in his arms in a circle, on late nights in the cockpit when neither of them can sleep, from the nightmares that tormented both of their lives.

"No, Gamora, that's not it," he reassures her, voice thick. "You're not making me feel worse, I promise. If anything, you're helping me feel better."

"I do not see how I am helping," she protests, looking at him in confusion. He looks more upset now than when she first came into the cockpit. She's terrible at this, and she hasn't been terrible at anything in a long time.

He smiles sadly at her. "You caring helps. You just _being_ here helps."

"Okay," she replies softly, brows furrowed as she studies his face. She doesn't push the issue further, because she doesn't know if he wants to talk about it, and she doesn't want to make it worse. They fall into silence for a moment, because Gamora doesn't know what's wrong or how to help.

Luckily, Peter answers that question for her a moment later.

"The reason I'm like this," he gestures wryly at his face, as if his sad expression was enough of an explanation, "is that today is the crappy anniversary of a really crappy day, or at least I think it is. Time is hard to keep track of in space, and it's different from Earth, and we track cycles differently out here, ya know?"

Gamora nods, because she assumes that everything Terran is different from the rest of the galaxy, at least as far as she can tell from getting to know Peter.

At her reassuring look, he continues, that faraway look in his eyes again, voice heavy. "And today is the day...well I think it is, it's the day I've been thinking it was ever since I was with the Ravagers...because it's the day Yondu took me, the day that my mom..."

Peter trails off, sighing heavily. "Today's the anniversary of the day my whole world got turned upside down."

And suddenly Gamora gets it, knows why Peter has been so quiet all night, why he disappeared suddenly from the bar without a word, to come listen to music alone on the _Milano_.

It's the anniversary of the day his mother died and he was kidnapped by a cutthroat stranger that raised him as his own, and wow, can she painfully relate to all of _that_.

They're not all that different, in many ways. Tragic pasts and lost homes are unfortunately one of the many things all of the Guardians share.

But her and Peter had both watched their parents die and then were taken away by psychopaths—true, Thanos is galaxies worse than Yondu, but still—they were both ripped from the only homes and parents they'd ever known and forced into lives neither of them had ever wanted.

"Peter," her voice is soft, if not a little thick with emotion, because she knows—in not exactly the same way, maybe—but she _knows_ how painful this feels. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that's why you wanted to be alone. We would have left you in peace."

She assumes while with the Ravagers, where showing emotions like this meant you were soft and weak and thus easily expendable, Peter must have often resorted to going off by himself for a night to mourn his losses alone, away from prying eyes...and she has just walked in on that tradition.

"Eh, don't be," Peter shrugs again in response, feigning nonchalance, "it's not your guys' fault. You didn't know, because I didn't really wanna talk about it." As he turns away, Gamora swears she can see unshed tears glistening in his eyes. He grabs a half empty bottle of some alien liquor from the floor by the captain's chair and takes a long swig from the bottle, as if the answer to his troubles lie at the bottom.

He stops, wiping his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand, before motioning at her with the bottle. "Want some? It's pretty good."

"No, that's alright," she replies with a shake of her head, realizing just now that Peter _is_ drunk. Not ridiculously wasted like Rocket and Drax had been back at the bar, but he is slightly unsteady on his feet, face just a little flushed between the alcohol coursing his system and his emotions.

He nods at her refusal, taking another long draw from the bottle, grimacing a little as the last sip burns down his throat. He catches her watching him, and she knows the concern is evident on her face. He sighs, setting the bottle back down. "Okay, maybe not the best coping mechanism. But it helps."

Gamora gives him a wan smile. "Getting drunk would only make my nightmares worse."

True, it would take likely ten times the amount of liquor than Peter to get drunk thanks to her body mods, but she knows that it wouldn't help erase the years of horror and torture she's endured. It won't erase Peter's, either, but it's not stopping him from trying.

Peter falters a little at her words, eyes burning with understanding. "Do you think about them a lot?" he suddenly asks softly, genuinely concerned.

Gamora hesitates, unprepared for him to suddenly focus the conversation onto her. "Well, I," she silently berates herself for being flustered. For Peter, she can do this. She can share this with him, because he understands more than most anyone else would, and he needs this right now.

She takes a deep breath to center herself, and starts again. "Yes, I do. Although I was much younger than you were when I lost my parents and my world. I don't remember them as well. It's more like I remember the _idea_ of them, in a way."

He looks even sadder at her admission, if that's possible, and walks over to her, giving her hand just a quick squeeze of reassurance before letting go. "I'm sorry, Gamora. I never knew my father, but at least I have some really good memories of my mother, even if things weren't so good at the end. It must be really hard not to remember much about them."

She gives him a small, sad smile of agreement. "I know we were happy, at least. And that they loved me, and wanted to protect me. I have some small memories, happy memories, or good feelings tied to some fleeting memories, at least, and I try to hold onto that."

Peter nods knowingly at her explanation, giving her a wry look. He reaches back down to pick up the bottle, offering it to her again with a raised eyebrow, effectively breaking the heavy tension in the room. "Here, I think _you_ need this."

Gamora actually laughs, grateful for the distraction from their dark pasts. She looks at him skeptically for a moment, before she relents this time and snatches the bottle swiftly out of his hands, taking a long swig. The liquor burns down her throat, and she hands it back without a care. It is not nearly enough to affect her, not with her altered body, but she can feel a sort of pleasant warmth spread through her from it.

Peter looks thoroughly pleased as he takes the bottle back. "See? I told you it's not that bad."

"You're impossible," she huffs at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. Peter seems better now, having shared his dark emotions with her, with someone who _understands_ , but there is still a sad, lonely look in his eyes that Gamora really wants to fix.

Then the song on the mix tape changes, to one that is secretly one of Gamora's favorites, even though half of the lyrics are Terran references and sometimes hard to follow. The melody is pleasant and the ending of the song resonates with her, making her feel light on her feet, somehow.

And then she suddenly has an idea, something that will definitely take his mind off of this awful day.

 _I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long_

 _Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song_

She steps directly in front of Peter, holding out her hand. "Dance with me."

* * *

Peter just stares at her again, nearly dropping the bottle in his hands. "D-dance with you?"

Gamora gives him an impatient sigh. " _Yes_."

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does, he _really_ does, but he's only recently gotten her to agree to slow dance with him at all, in the secrecy of night when they would both end up in the cockpit, unable to sleep. Just simple, slow dances, nothing like what he had done when he'd distracted Ronan or any other number of more complex moves in his repertoire...but all of those other times they've danced, he was the one who had always asked her.

She has never asked him before.

He realizes she's still looking expectantly at him with her hand out, awaiting an answer.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he breaks into a wide grin, haphazardly chucking the bottle into one of the chairs. "Come on, Gamora, I always want to dance. I just didn't think, you know, that _you_ wanted to. Unless I annoy you into dancing with me, which I think is probably about fifty percent of the time."

"More than fifty," she shrugs at that, amusement dancing in her eyes at his reaction. "Well, Star-Lord, can I have this dance, or would you rather keep talking about dancing?"

Peter vehemently shakes his head, still grinning like an idiot, he's sure. Her calling him Star-Lord might be his favorite thing to happen, well ever, in addition to finally getting her to dance with him. "No, nope, definitely not. Done talking now," he makes a fake zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key gesture, which just makes Gamora stare at him even more bizarrely, yet another Earth thing that no one else in space understands.

"Just means I'm done talking now," he quickly explains, taking her hand and pulling her into their usual slow dancing position, one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand, while her free hand comes up to rest gingerly on his shoulder.

"Clearly," Gamora smirks at him, and he can't help but laugh at that.

They fall into their normal routine, swaying in a slow, easy circle to the sound of the music wafting pleasantly from the speakers. They fall into a comfortable silence, listening to the music and enjoying each other's company. Peter thinks he could die happy, even if this is all Gamora is ever willing to give him. She's not an idiot, she must know that he is attracted to her, but it's becoming so much more than that for him. Even if he is never more than this with her, more than friends, he thinks he could live with that, even though it gets harder to settle for just that everyday.

And suddenly, Peter wants more. If he can't have more with Gamora, than at least he's going to get more out of this moment. After this crappy day, trapped with his painful memories, he thinks that's the least he deserves...as long as Gamora agrees to it, anyway.

"Hey, I have an idea," he interrupts suddenly, stopping their dance and stepping back out of her arms. She furrows her brow at him in confusion as he hurriedly grabs his tape out of the _Milano's_ speakers and snatches his Walkman off of the nearby control panel it had been sitting on.

"What kind of an idea?" she asks, tone skeptical as usual, and Peter gives her what he hopes is his most charming grin. It's amazing how much just being with her has already lifted his mood, and he really hopes she can tell.

"You'll see," is all he says, destination already in mind. "It's not too far, and it's not even dangerous, I promise."

He starts walking towards the back of the ship to leave, pausing when he realizes she isn't right behind him, still giving him a curious look.

He sighs, expecting this from her, but still smiling. "Trust me?"

And she does, following him out the door of the ship.

* * *

Gamora has no idea what to expect. Peter has gone from being morose and depressed to almost giddy and excited, and she isn't sure how much of that has been from her and how much from the alcohol.

Probably both, actually.

Peter is true to his word and they don't go far. This particular port has a docking bay that faces a large aurora, and it causes a spectacular light show across a nearby asteroid field. As dangerous as it would be to fly close to, from this distance, it's beautiful.

They have stopped at the far edge of the docking bays that has a long deck, what Peter describes as _kind of like a pier_ back on Terra, that purposefully faces the ongoing night show in the sky.

At this time of night, the popular tourist attraction is deserted, just leaving the two of them and the stars.

Peter cranks up the volume on his Walkman as far at it will go, and then sets it on top of one of the railing posts, the orange headphones aimed in their direction so they can still hear the music. It's quiet, but loud enough to hear since there is no other noise around. It's eerily quiet and peaceful out here under the sparkling aurora.

 _And though I'm nobody's poet_

 _I thought it wasn't half bad_

"Why are we here, Peter?" she asks, as he finishes setting up the Walkman and comes back over to her. She has a suspicious feeling it has something to do with the decidedly romantic ambiance this pier has, but she decides not to call him on it. She is trying to cheer him up, after all.

"I wanted to try something new," he answers with a smile, reaching for her hand again to pull her back in for a dance. "But there really isn't enough room on the _Milano_ to practice."

"Practice what?" she asks again, feeling like he is talking in circles around her now, never quite getting to the point. Which with Peter in general, happens more often than not.

"Okay, when the chorus comes back on," he replies, motioning with his other hand, "I want you to move out under my arm, but you're going to spin to the right. Then I'll pull you back in to me the same way and we'll keep on dancing."

"Is this some sort of Terran dance move?" she raises her eyebrows, but she is smiling now too.

He nods his head enthusiastically. "Yes, sort of. It's one I remember seeing when I was a kid, at least."

"Like Kevin Bacon," Gamora agrees firmly, because that is an Earth reference of his that she finally understands, although she feels unsure when Peter bursts into laughter.

"Yeah, kind of," he agrees, still chuckling. "Come on, it'll be fun, and you'll be great at it. You're naturally agile."

"Spinning around hardly requires being agile," she replies flatly, but she can't hide the near laughter in her tone. She is still skeptical of this new dance move, but she can't deny him this. Not when he finally looks happy again, not the broken shell she had walked in on earlier.

"Just try it," Peter encourages her with a wide grin, and Gamora relents. They continue dancing in their normal slow dance routine until Peter gives her the signal, right as the music builds into the chorus.

 _If you like Pina Coladas_

 _and getting caught in the rain_

"Okay, you go to the _right_ , and spin out," he gently instructs, and Gamora attempts to follow his lead. As much as she is both naturally and genetically programmed to be athletic, she falters a little at first, turning clumsily under his arm, tripping a little as she spins out, and almost dropping his other hand.

She turns to glare back at him as he snickers. Even slightly drunk, he is more graceful at this than her right now, and she is thoroughly unimpressed with that fact. "Is _this_ the move you were trying to do?"

He immediate schools his expression, although he is barely holding back his laughter. "Almost." When she glares at him harder, he throws up his free hand in surrender. "Really! It wasn't that bad, I swear. You just have to get the hang of it."

He pulls her back to him, still trying to reassure her. "You'll get it. Just try and relax, okay? If you're too stiff it'll be hard to spin you."

"Okay," she grouses, but agrees. Peter isn't wrong, she can feel the tension in her body, the tension of a warrior that never really goes away. The trouble with dancing, she is quickly discovering, is that she needs to be more relaxed, and she also needs to let Peter take the lead, both of which are difficult things for her to do. But she is determined to do this, and to do this right, so they try again.

After a few more attempts, Gamora has gotten the _hang of it_ , as Peter says, spinning gracefully out under his arm, and then back as he pulls her in. They practice it over and over, not even really paying attention as the songs change and so do the rhythms, completely lost in their own dance under the sparkling lights in the distance.

They dance for what feels like the entire night, and Gamora can't remember the last time she had just enjoyed herself, doing something that wasn't a mission or a job.

For the first time in a long time, she just feels _happy_.

And she can tell from the look on Peter's face that he does too, completely lost in their dance together, his earlier sadness momentarily forgotten, or at least pushed far away for the time being.

If dancing with Peter is what it takes to cheer him up, then Gamora thinks she can easily ask him to dance again, anytime.

* * *

— **Cue heart eyes—I should write fluff more often!**

 **And writing drunk Rocket and Drax was** _ **so**_ **fun.**

 **Song lyric creds: Rupert Holmes-Escape (The Pina Colada Song); Redbone-Come and Get Your Love**

 **Hope you enjoyed this fluffy ending...lots of hurt!Peter and worried!Gamora and Guardians in the next one!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Gratuitous Peter whump in this one! Sorry not sorry.**

 **Also, the first half of this chap was inspired by an amazing Clintasha fic I read way back after the first Avengers came out...which of course I can't find or remember right now...but major shout-out to that author for the inspiration!**

 **And thanks so much to Frida521, Aerilon, and Guest for your reviews last chapter!**

* * *

 **Three**

"Gamora, c'mon."

She can't even look at him right now.

She'd rather be anywhere else at the moment, than sitting in the few inches of space on one of the bunks on the main deck of the _Milano_ that are not currently taken up by Peter. She's so mad that she moves further away every time his leg brushes against her because she can't even stand to touch him.

The fact that he's left her so little room is an indication of how weak he currently is. He's lying with his head on his rolled up leather jacket, and Drax is kneeling next to him, trying to dress the bleeding wound on his chest, but he's not making it easy. He keeps trying to sit up, because Gamora is ignoring him, isn't speaking to him right now, because the words are quite literally caught in her throat.

She doesn't remember the last time she was this angry.

There's a lot to be said for the fact that _she_ isn't the one patching his wound currently, because that's usually her job, but she couldn't stop the shaking of her hands, and Drax had gently urged her to let him take over.

Gamora can only hope that in Peter's current state of pain and blood loss he hasn't noticed.

She's better than this. She _has_ to be.

"Gamora!"

He knows she can hear him perfectly well, but he just keeps saying her name louder, like she's going to start speaking to him again just to shut him up. It's worked in the past, honestly, but it won't work this time.

Sitting here, still and silent, is her effort to keep herself together until she can get off this ship because she will not let him see her scared. She doesn't want him to know she's scared...she only wants him to see her anger.

Then she feels a hand on her shoulder and whips her head around.

He has managed to sit up, despite the best efforts of an obviously disapproving and concerned looking Drax, and the hand on her shoulder is partly a means to get her attention and partly a necessary measure to hold himself upright. Gamora feels a terrible urge to pull him into her arms and hold him close, but fiercely shoves it back down.

Peter is pale from blood loss, his movements visibly shaky, and her heart involuntarily clenches because she hates when he's hurt, and he is somehow the most resilient out of all of them (half-Terran or not). The shaking is awful and she doesn't want to look at it, doesn't want to see him like this.

It's only been a few weeks since Ego, and everything is still too raw, too vulnerable, and Gamora hates that she no longer has control over her emotions...especially when it comes to him.

The unspoken thing between them is spoken now, and they are still navigating the new territory between them slowly, carefully, as they figure out exactly what that means.

Gamora just didn't expect it to mean how suddenly and painfully aware she is of how mortal Peter is now, the half celestial part of him all but gone.

Realizing she almost lost him _again_ today is more than she can take. _Attachment means weakness_ echoes in the back of her mind, parts of her training from years under Thanos that she still can't quite drown out.

It is all she can do to mask her fear behind anger, otherwise she might finally crack and break.

She feels another squeeze of her shoulder, and looks at him again, her expression stony, or at least she hopes it is. Despite the fact that his eyes are glassy and filled with pain, he's focused directly on her.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, weak but still stupidly defiant. She could kill him for it, for making her feel this way.

"I don't care what you say," she snaps back, although she does want a sorry, and some sort of promise that would mean he's not planning on doing this again in the future. Her voice is tight with fury. She shrugs his hand off her shoulder, looking away from him. She glares at Drax, growling unfairly, "Can't you make him sit still?"

"I do not wish to cause him further harm," Drax replies simply, but his brow is furrowed in concern as he looks over at Peter. "However, trying to control Quill without using brute force is an impossible feat." He's not wrong.

"That's right, because no one can control me," Peter agrees, some of his normal cockiness back in his tone. His eyes are boring into hers when she turns back to face him again, and she knows he's not just talking about the here and now. Images of him taking control of his newly discovered celestial power and fighting back against Ego while they all struggled to escape flash across her mind, and she swallows thickly to regain some semblance of control.

 _Damn him._

"Learning's one of my issues, remember?" Peter attempts to joke for a moment of levity between them. An unmistakable smirk turns up at the corners of his mouth, even though he's in obvious pain, and it only serves to anger her even more.

"So you're still a damn fool, but at least nobody can control you," she says, and to her horror her voice cracks, and she has to get away before she falls apart. She angrily jumps up off of the bunk and strides off towards the cockpit, unable to stand another minute of him trying to get her to think this is okay, that it's perfectly reasonable for him to throw himself in front of a blaster hit meant for her.

She climbs up the ladder to find Rocket piloting the _Milano_ , Groot sitting on his shoulder offering company and assistance. Luckily Rocket makes a great secondary pilot when Peter is incapacitated (which unfortunately is more often than not). At the sound of her purposed footsteps, Rocket turns his head and raises his furry eyebrows. "How's Captain Moron doing?"

"He's alright enough to make me want to strangle him, so I would say he's fine," she says shortly, gritting her teeth.

Groot turns then to look at her, his expression clearly concerned, his little voice feeling like a hammer against her already shot nerves. "I am Groot."

Rocket shoots the tiny tree a sideways glance. "So what if Quill just wanted to protect her? D'ast idiot almost got himself killed."

"Protect me?" Gamora scoffs at this. "I don't need his protection, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. It is not his duty to protect me."

"Yeah, trying tellin' him that," Rocket grumbles under his breath, even though he knows Gamora can hear him perfectly well.

He sighs then, looking carefully back at her. "Like it or not, Gamora, Quill obviously cares about you..."

"He cares about all of us," Gamora cuts him off, voice sharp. She can't do this. She can't go down this road right now, when her emotions are so precariously close to the surface.

Rocket gives her an incredulous look, as if everything should be that clear cut to understand. "But it's _different_ between you two, and you know it. We all do. You two might think yer not being obvious, but trust me when I say, you ain't."

"What's your point?" Gamora bites back, crossing her arms, and if her voice wavers a little bit, then Rocket and Groot choose not to comment on it. Groot just blinks up with her with wide eyes, still too young to fully grasp the conversation but aware enough to know what Rocket is referring to.

"My point is," Rocket says with another tired sigh, the weight of worrying about Peter heavy on all of them, "Quill is the reason we started this little rag-tag team to begin with, and in a move of complete insanity, we decided to make him our leader. That sorta makes him responsible for all us, even if he is mostly just a humie. So you can't act surprised when he does somethin' stupid—which is like a daily occurrence with him, I know—and risks his life to save one of ours."

He pauses, eyeing her carefully. "Especially _yours_."

Gamora clenches her fists tight at her side, hating Rocket for preaching to her and hating him even more for being right. Her voice is cool and harsh when she replies, effectively ending the conversation.

"Just fly the ship, Rocket."

It's not fair.

Before Peter, she never had to worry about anyone but herself and her own survival (and sometimes Nebula's too she has now realized later), and she just lived one day to the next, trying to stay alive and trying to please Thanos in order to avoid some barbaric form of torture that he would claim was love.

But ever since Peter Quill and the other Guardians have come quite literally blasting into her life, she has a reason to look forward to each day, to know what happiness feels like, to enjoy the little things that she had never been much concerned about or been able to care about before.

She has a purpose, a mission in life now, to do good and not evil, to help and not hurt, and for the first time since she was just a girl...to _care_.

Being with the Guardians makes her more than she ever thought she'd be.

And Peter makes her _human_.

It's so many things, since they've all been staying in the _Milano_ and started this whole 'Guardians of the Galaxy' thing. It's the late nights met on the cockpit where neither of them could sleep from nightmares neither of them wanted to talk about, just comforting each other with companionship and silence, and more recently, sharing little details about their pasts (the good parts). It's the way he shares his headphones and his music with her, how his face lights up with joy when she enjoys one of the new songs from the Zune. It's even the way he has taught her to dance, the way it feels to be in his arms to the gentle sway of the Terran music he loves. Peter brings her normalcy, this feeling of having a _family_ , which is something that Gamora has never truly had (Thanos was never her family, as far as she's concerned). And now that everything, their feelings towards each other are out in the open now, Gamora feels like she finally knows, for the first time in her life what it is to feel _safe_ , and truly cared for, and yes...loved.

Neither of them have voiced it yet, not in so many words, although it's obvious in the way Peter looks at her, and in the way that the thought of loving someone this way absolutely terrifies her, because she has never had this before, and she is even more terrified of losing it.

And then he goes and jumps in front of a plasma blaster for her and she has never been more afraid of anything in her entire life.

* * *

This isn't the first time Peter's been shot, but this is the first time he's done it on purpose.

It was supposed to be a simple mission – and really, aren't they all — just a surveillance mission for Nova Corps on one of their officers, who they had suspected of selling internal secrets to some less than honorable individuals on Knowhere. It seemed relatively easy and paid well to not be risking life and limb for once, so Peter readily agreed. But surveillance meant stealth, which definitely meant not taking _all_ of the Guardians on this particular mission, (especially Drax), so he immediately asked Gamora to go with him.

Really, he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather spend this mission with. Things were finally _spoken_ between them, and although they were still taking it slow—they hadn't even kissed yet—he found himself wanting to spend every waking minute with her more than he already had.

He was turning into some sort of a sap, and he knew it, but he found he was caring about that less and less.

Gamora was worth it for him. She was worth _everything_.

For once, Peter didn't care that it was a relatively boring mission—supposedly just surveillance and reporting back, unless they caught something suspicious — they'd been sitting on the _Milano_ ever since the aftermath of Ego, waiting for a new mission, a distraction really, from everything they'd been through. As nice as it was to have some time off, all of them were getting restless, ready for the next mission to blow off some steam.

So when Dey called and asked him if they wanted to take a simpler mission, watching their suspected officer to see if he was indeed interacting with some intergalactic lowlifes on Knowhere, he jumped on it. He immediately chose to take Gamora, over the others, and not just because she is a master assassin, but because he always has more fun with her, and it always feels less like work with her...and he'd be lying if he wasn't hoping for a little _alone_ time with her. With all of them living on the ship, including Mantis now, moments for privacy were few and far between.

They spent the day on Knowhere, doing their best to blend in casually with the crowds. Fortunately, it seemed like no one recognized them here or no one cared at least, which aided their tailing of the Nova officer in question without drawing too much attention.

And it was a relatively boring mission, the officer not doing anything out of the ordinary, although he looked decidedly nervous, constantly looking over his shoulder as he walked the streets, but somehow never noticing Peter or Gamora.

He stopped at a couple booths along the streets, and in a couple of seedy bars, but still never interacted with anyone beyond buying a drink at one of the bars.

It was boring, but it was nice, for once, to have a mission with Gamora where they weren't constantly tense, worrying over their next move or running for their lives every second.

Besides, Gamora was a master at stealth, and all Peter needed to do was follow her lead, turning away or falling back when she instructed him to, so that the officer didn't catch sight of them and run.

All the while, he just enjoyed her company, just being able to be the two of them for once. They kept up an easy conversation between them, and he even made her laugh a few times, although she would slap his arm gently in reprimand to not draw more attention to them, and it was just _nice_ being with her.

It was an easy mission, really.

Of course, it was right after that that everything went to hell.

All of a sudden, after the last booth along a particularly shady street near the outskirts of the main city, the officer quickly dipped into an alley, breaking into a fast and obviously panicked run.

The jig was up.

Their orders from Nova Corps were clear—if he did anything suspicious, anything at all—bring him in. Peter and Gamora instantly met eyes, both drawing their weapons simultaneously. They couldn't let him get away.

"I'll follow this a-hole," Peter gave her a sharp nod, gesturing with his blaster, "and you go to the right and stop him at the other end. Easy."

"Done," Gamora replied briskly, all business now, but he could see the glint of excitement in her eyes, knowing the same was reflected in his own.

They were becoming more of a fine-tuned team with each mission, every job, and the excitement of how good they worked together still hadn't worn off.

With that, Peter turned sharply down the alley in a dead run after their target, knowing Gamora would be fast enough to go right around the building and cut around to the other side of the alley before the officer could even get to the other end. The officer had a good headstart on him, so he wouldn't be surprised if Gamora made it around to the other side of the alley and stopped the guy before he could even catch up.

It should have been an easy pick-up with a non-threatening target.

Peter had thought that the corrupt Nova officer would be scared of his guns and Gamora's knives and their respective somewhat intimidating presences — okay, mostly Gamora's — but he'd honestly thought that violence wouldn't be necessary, that they'd just be able to take this guy in without much of a fight.

He hadn't expected the Nova officer to have backup, or be more prepared than he had let on.

Peter realized, as he chased him deeper into the alley, that he was clutching something in his left hand—and that something was a communicator.

That asshole was calling for _help_.

Peter's heart clenched with dread as he realized that he and Gamora had walked right into a trap, letting their guard down, thinking this mission was supposed to be simple, easy even...

But they could never just have that kind of luck.

Now they were cornered in a small, dark alley, and Peter had a sinking feeling they were about to be surrounded.

At that exact moment, Gamora emerged at the other end, directly in front of the officer, Godslayer already drawn, not even appearing out of breath.

The officer skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes wide, throwing up his hands in surrender.

Peter ran faster, his lungs burning now, trying to catch up with them. Gamora hadn't seen the communicator, and he still needed to warn her that they might have company.

"Stop!" Gamora commanded the officer, face stony. "Come with us without a fight, and we won't hurt you."

The officer had the gall to look scared for a moment, looking back at Peter still running towards them, before slowly backing up so his back hit a rusted metal door in the side of one of the buildings that opened out into the alley.

Then a snide grin spread smoothly across his face as the door suddenly swung open behind him. "I don't think so."

Peter ran even faster as he saw at least ten large Sakaarans emerge from the door and into the alley, each heavily armed and loaded.

Gamora instantly went into fight mode, realizing they were outnumbered, body tensing as she held her sword out in front of her, eyeing their new enemy with contempt. "This doesn't have to end violently."

"Oh, yes it does," the officer shot back, his voice cold and harsh, and it was hard to see how he ever fit into the Nova Corps. He turned to his allies behind them, tone impassive as he gave the order. "Kill her."

Peter thought his heart might stop, and not from exertion. Almost there...

The largest Sakaaran thug pulled out a gun, a new, compact, highly advanced type of blaster that Peter had never even seen before…and pointed it directly at her head.

Time stood still. His heart leapt to his throat, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. It felt like a thousand years passed as he watched that blaster pointed at Gamora as he ran towards them, he could practically see a line from where the barrel ended to where the blast would hit her, right in the center of her forehead.

And it was his all fault, all his goddamn fault, because he had told her to go _right_ , and now she was quite literally in the line of fire because of him. She was going to die because he freaking sent her to the right.

The amount of emotion that Peter felt at seeing the person he loves most about to be taken out of the world was overwhelming. He's already lost his mother, and Yondu, and he can't lose Gamora too, he _can't_. He knows he's going to have nightmares about it. It was mostly just blind terror, and regret, but a lot of it was rage.

At the Sakaaran for pointing the gun, at the officer for just being there, at Nova Corps for not fully knowing what the hell they were sending them into, at himself for not being more prepared for something like this _and_ for inviting Gamora, at Gamora for accepting. At time, for not being up to the moment where everything between them is said yet, when they haven't even had a chance to explore this thing between them. This is unforgiveable.

So he did the only thing he could have done, and that's what she doesn't understand. Even though she probably could have taken the hit, or moved out of the way fast enough, or yeah, likely even killed the Sakaaran before he could even pull the trigger—but Peter didn't know if that's what would happen, for sure, didn't know with absolutely _certainty_ that she would be okay—so it's the only thing he could have done.

He ran, and he jumped in front of her.

It's like it was meant to happen that way, because the Sakaaran pulled the trigger at the exact moment he jumped, and the blast hit him directly in the chest, but it was near his shoulder, so it really wasn't that bad. He hit the ground _hard_ when he landed, and that's definitely gonna leave a mark, and yeah, so blaster wounds burn like a mother and everything's spinning around him, but it's no worse than being drunk and getting his ass kicked. Well, okay...maybe a little worse. It's more like getting his ass kicked by ten guys after a three day bender, if one of the ten guys then proceeded to ram a rod of burning hot lava through his chest and slam him into the ground.

Getting shot sucks.

But Peter doesn't regret taking the hit, he feels pretty freaking great about it actually. He has never been happier about a single other decision he's made in his life, because Gamora is safe, and alive, so he can't have any regrets about that. He doesn't care that in order to save their own lives Gamora had to take out the corrupt officer and most of his Sakaaran friends, with no hope of non-violent capture or interrogation. In his opinion they got what they deserved.

But he does feel bad about scaring Gamora. The moments after he hit the ground are kind of confusing to him now, and there's a blank period between closing his eyes on the ground and waking up on the _Milano_ , but he remembers her scream around the time the blast hit him in mid-air. He has a hazy maybe-memory of her kneeling over him, eyes wide.

 _No, Peter—stay awake—open your eyes—Peter!_

And this is a woman who has been tortured without making a sound, who has fought madmen and monsters and seen the very worst that the galaxy has to offer and never backed down for a minute. He's not an idiot; he knows she's afraid sometimes. He's probably the only person who knows. Her reputation precedes her, and with good reason. People who don't know Gamora think she's cold, that she's just some heartless assassin, that she doesn't care, that she truly lives up to being the favorite daughter of Thanos, regardless of what she's done now with the Guardians to prove that's _not_ who she really is. Opinions on someone as feared as her won't just change overnight.

But she _does_ care about protecting innocent people, she proved that with Xandar, and she does care about the other Guardians, and she cares about him – he knows that, even if it's hard to know exactly how much sometimes. He knows she's still guarded, still slowly letting down her walls with the rest of them, with _him_ , how strong she always has to be in order not to fall apart.

And she was terrified today, even though she is trying to mask it behind her anger. He hates it, hates that he is the reason for it, but he still wouldn't change a thing about what happened. If faced with the same choice again, he'd take a bullet for her every single time, no hesitation, if it meant that she wouldn't get hurt.

Now, back on the _Milano_ as he lays on the bunk, Peter can hear her and Rocket talking up in the front of the ship, with Groot's occasional interjections of "I am Groot," but he can't make out exactly what they're saying, it sounds like they're underwater or something. Mantis is somewhere in the back of the ship, apparently hiding away from Gamora after she almost threatened to break her arm after Mantis had offered to help her calm down. Gamora hadn't meant it—he doesn't think—but he knows how upset she had been when they had gotten back to the ship, how upset she still is now, for that matter—and Mantis had gotten the brunt of her wrath.

He is currently getting the rest.

He sighs, making a pained grunt as he shifts on the bunk, trying to get comfortable but not finding any position that works. Drax keeps methodically poking and prodding him, apparently being the most skilled of the Guardians in the art of medicine besides Gamora (seriously?) from his years on the battlefield, and keeps trying to dress his wound, and it _hurts_.

"Dude, do you even know what you're doing?" Peter croaks irritably, and the Drax narrows his eyes.

"Indeed I do, Quill, but it would be much easier to tend to your wound appropriately if you would lie still," he says pointedly at Peter, tone patient almost as if he were addressing a child, and then continues to attempt to stop the bleeding wound on his chest.

It's weird, because usually plasma burns cauterize themselves and stop bleeding, and even the automatic skin sealant for wounds that Drax is attempting use on him isn't working. Apparently luck just isn't on his side today.

Peter glances back at Drax, finally laying back down on the bunk. "Yeah, yeah I know," he sighs in defeat. "Thanks man. I'll try to stop moving, okay?"

Drax nods silently in approval, a small smile on his lips, before continuing with his attempts to treat his wound.

He hates this.

Peter would really, really like to sit up, or at least prop himself up on his elbows, because he wants to at least try to hear what she is saying, even if she's so mad at him she can't be in the same room right now. But Drax has a point and also, his muscles feel like concrete and every effort makes him shake like crazy so he finally gives up. He lets Drax work on him for a while before the destroyer mentions needing "some primitive gauze" to add to the sealant on his wound to try and stop the bleeding. He stands and moves to the back compartment to fetch some more supplies from their meager medical kit. Peter agrees, mumbling something about how that's all he needs to be patched up. Maybe if he plays nice he'll get to avoid a stay in the Xandarian hospital.

After a while, he hears the sound of light footsteps heading towards him and recognizes that Rocket is coming over – his claws clinking along on the metal floor on the ship. His furry face appears a moment later next to the side of the bunk, hovering over him. Peter attempts to raise his arm to give him a thumbs up, but finds that he can't even summon the strength and the effort sends a shooting pain through his arm that makes stars explode in his head, and he winces instead.

"Hey moron, how's it going?" Rocket asks him, his sarcasm betrayed by the concern evident in his tone.

"Been better," Peter manages to get out, because even talking is zapping all his energy. He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how mad is she?"

Rocket whistles. "Oh man, on a scale of one to ten…? Gotta be at least sixteen."

He exhales. It's moments like this when he wishes things were different between them. He wants to tell her it's okay that she's scared for him, but she would never admit that she is – he doesn't know if she even admits it to herself.

He wants to tell her why he's glad that he took that hit for her, why he'd do it again, but he's pretty sure she wouldn't talk to him again for days afterwards. He wants there to be something he can say that will make her feel less guilty, because he never wants her to blame herself for something like this, because she is already dealing with enough guilt for a lifetime, thanks to Thanos—but he won't lie to her. He can't say he won't do it again.

And damn it, he just got shot. No matter how it happened, he wishes she would just come over and sit with him because he feels like crap and having her there would make it a lot better, and so would having her not be mad at him.

"Eh, don't worry Quill, she'll get over it," Rocket shrugs, but his intonation makes it sound like a question, "eventually." Peter gets it—sometimes it's pretty hard to imagine the wrath of the Gamora ending, well, _ever_.

"Yeah, she'll get over it," Peter says with a groan. "But she'll never let me forget about it, trust me."

"Until you go and do the next idiot thing at least," Rocket smirks at him. "But still, I don't get why she's so angry at you right now. She'd do the same for you. We all would. God knows how much work it is to keep your sorry ass alive."

"Gee, thanks," Peter grumbles, turning away from Rocket and staring listlessly at the ceiling, unable to even snark back for once. He feels _awful_.

He knows she would, that they all would, just as he would do (and had just done) for any of them. He has another retort on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said, but he gets a wave of nausea that completely prohibits opening his mouth, so he just closes his eyes and tries to breathe through it. Rocket seems to get the hint and he feels a paw hesitantly pat his knee, then hears the same slight clicking of claws on metal fading away as he returns to the cockpit.

He doesn't remember feeling quite this bad the last time he was shot, at least six years ago—way before he even met Gamora and the others. Yondu and the rest of the Ravagers hadn't let him live down the fact that a "little plasma hit" directly in the back had been enough to take him down, and had been sure to remind him that he was just a "fragile little terran". Peter had been laid up for a couple days after that, but had been ready for the Ravager's next raid shortly thereafter (or at least he had sucked it up and pretended he was, for fear of being useless to them).

It doesn't make sense that this is worse – or not worse, exactly, but different, because the wound itself doesn't hurt quite as much – a dull pain as opposed to unbelievable agony – but he feels like he's been run over by the entire Xandarian fleet of ships. He's survived holding the Infinity Stone, and being a personal battery for Ego, and somehow _this_ is torture. He's so tired he can't even move… the mere act of breathing is getting painful, and more difficult with each breath, and he's so dizzy he can feel his heartbeat pulsing throughout his entire body like someone is hitting him with a hammer, and everything is getting progressively worse, and fast.

This isn't normal. He wants to make a noise, but he suddenly can't remember how to form words. Something is wrong, _really_ wrong, but suddenly he can't move, can't even yell out for help.

He needs Gamora to come back in here and kick everyone else's ass for leaving him alone. He can make her laugh if she just comes back in. He can make her forgive him.

He just needs her to come back…

* * *

She offers to take Rocket's spot as pilot for a while because she needs something to distract herself with, and he reluctantly relents, mumbling something about wanting to check on Peter. They're still half an hour away from the private hospital on Xandar, which would be the best place to get Peter treated—and in one of his brief moments of consciousness on the ground in the alley, Peter had mumbled ' _Milano'_ where a normal person would say 'hospital' and as furious as she was, she trusted him, and they headed for Xandar instead of any closer planetary hospitals.

She's always liked flying. She isn't as naturally talented as Peter or cybernetically programmed in the same ways as Rocket to be an exceptional pilot, but her enhancements definitely lent to quickly learning how, and was maybe the only thing she enjoyed learning from her tortured upbringing.

For the first time, the darkness of the universe or the blinking of the stars around her doesn't calm her.

Groot sits in silence next to her, sensing that she needs this time alone, to think, to calm down, and doesn't offer his usual cuddles or curious questions. She doesn't want to hear them right now, anyways.

Rocket comes back much sooner than she expected and she tightens her grip on the controls, reluctant to give it up.

He doesn't ask for it back, but sighs heavily, before finally saying, "Ah, damn it, I can't believe I'm actually saying this…but I think you should go back there, Gamora."

"I'm fine right here," she answers shortly.

She can practically hear the disappointment in his voice, and damn it, she likes Rocket but for him to get all knowing and judgmental like this is just so _ironic_ and out of character that it makes her want to punch something.

"So Quill is a self-sacrificing idiot and just got shot for you, even though he knows you could have survived it," he tries again. "Whether you wanted him to or not, whether that was a smart idea or not, which I'm not saying it was, believe me…he's hurt and, uh, you should…you should go be with him."

She knows he's right. She shouldn't be angry, but she doesn't know how to let it go. She knows she should be back there, holding his hand and thanking him… and just thanking the universe that he's okay, he's not dead… he's still here. But the sight of him makes her want to scream. As much as she wants to be back there with him, she's not certain she can keep it together if she even looks at him right now.

There's silence as Rocket's words hang in the air and both he and Groot stay quiet, waiting for her response, because she's sure they can sense she's barely holding it together.

She's got to be better than this.

She tries to imagine how he'd be acting if the situation were reversed and she'd jumped in front of a shot meant for him. She can see it so clearly – he'd be furious, he'd be pacing in the back of the ship, raving about how stupid it was for her to do, how he didn't ask her to do it, and that although he may be the _weak one_ that doesn't mean she needs to risk her life for him. He'd be going on and on to the others about how many times she's almost died, how reckless she is with her own life. He'd be hovering over her every move, refusing to let her do anything for herself and checking on her every five seconds to make sure that she was really okay, ignoring every one of her protests that she was fine.

He would, essentially, be driving her completely insane and she'd probably beg him to go sit in the cockpit and leave her in peace.

But she has no doubt he'd stay with her anyway.

"Rocket, take the controls," she says finally, and he nods in silent approval as she moves out of the way and slips out of the pilot seat. Groot gives her a happy smile and a little wave as well.

She's barely down the ladder when she hears a loud thump and she feels a sudden spike in apprehension, causing her to scramble the rest of the way down, less than gracefully. A second later she sees Peter sitting hunched over on the ground, clearly having tried to get up off the bunk and fallen, and her heart clenches with fear. She runs over and crashes to her knees next to him, reaching out to keep him from falling over. He looks awful—how did he get so bad so fast—he is covered in sweat and he doesn't even seem completely awake, breathing heavily and leaning to the side with glassy, confused eyes.

She presses her hand against his forehead, which is damp with sweat, and he rests his head heavily against it, exhausted. He's burning up. She feels sick.

"Peter, what's wrong?!" she demands shakily, even though she knows he can't answer.

When she moves her hand away, he leans forward and rests his forehead against her collarbone, and she gets the feeling that if she wasn't there he would have just kept pitching forward onto the floor face first. He is radiating heat, and there is no way a Terran should be this hot, she's sure, and yet she can feel him shivering against her. She can tell that his breathing is funny, something is wrong, it's too slow and labored, and there's a new wheezing sound with each pained breath he takes. He couldn't answer her if he tried.

She's not used to this— because he's always a pain in the ass when he's injured or sick, he always complains, he never shuts up, he tells his stupid jokes, he can't be this quiet— something is seriously wrong.

" _Peter_ ," she says again, desperately. She's pathetic, she doesn't sound confident or reassuring, she sounds terrified. She sounds like a child. "Hey!"

She shakes him a little and he groans painfully in response. She gets her hands on his shoulders and manages to slowly push him upright, using her arms to brace him. It's hard going because he's too weak to even balance and she feels guilty for even making him move, of hurting him more, but the idea of him losing consciousness makes her panic.

This is when Gamora sees that the sealant over his wound is doing nothing to stop the blood loss now, and it's dripping freely down his chest in rivulets, worsening by the second.

Her vision goes fuzzy, she's so frightened.

"Rocket, Drax, _something's_ _wrong with Peter!_ " she shouts as loud as she can, hoping anyone nearby in the ship will hear her, really, because Peter is pale white and he's looking at her with watery, unfocused eyes that already seem half-dead, and she doesn't even think he can see her. She gets an arm under his back and one around his neck and manages to lower him more roughly onto the floor than she intends, because gravity is only making him lose blood faster, and then she hears Rocket and Groot running up behind her, having left the ship on autopilot—she hears Rocket swear when he catches sight of Peter on the floor.

"What the hell happened?" he asks sharply, skidding to a stop at Peter's side and shaking his arm, getting no response. "Quill, hey, stay with us here!"

Peter is staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes in a total daze and he doesn't even look like he's feeling anything anymore, which is not good. He moans slightly when Rocket roughly rubs his claws against his sternum to invoke a response to pain, and Gamora reaches out to hold his face in both hands, and she can put up with all of his half-serious teasing about this later if he just won't die...

 _Peter_ , _just hang on...Peter, please..._

"Drax, Mantis, get up here!" calls Rocket, unable to hide his growing panic anymore, and they both come bounding from the back of the ship only moments later, a roll of gauze that Drax had finally managed to find in his large hands, Mantis wide-eyed behind him as they rush to join them at Peter's side.

Gamora doesn't even realize she's pleading his name out loud until Peter's fingers somehow manage to close around her wrist, tangling into her leather cuff. Even with that stoned glaze on his face and his eyes staring at some point above her head, he's trying to say something, wheezing heavily, and she leans down closer to hear it, her dark hair brushing his face.

"S-stay."

His voice is so hoarse and weak she can barely understand him, but she does… she feels like she's going to throw up because he doesn't look scared even though he's dying and it's because she's there, she knows it is. She doesn't understand how she became this person for him but it breaks her heart because she is not nearly enough. She left him back here hurt and alone because she was angry that he saved her life. He deserves so much more than her.

"I will," she croaks, "I promise." She sounds like she's spent the last year of her life screaming.

"Damn it, we're still too far from Xandar," Rocket bites out in frustration and worry as Groot comes closer to Peter's side.

"I am Groot," the little tree says in obvious worry as he peers down at their fallen captain, his wide eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah, but we need somewhere that's more equipped to treat Terrans, and now the only place close enough is Xandar," Rocket answers with a dejected shake of his head before turning back to Drax and Mantis and Gamora, shooting off rapid fire questions as if one of them might have the answer. "So, what's wrong with him?! What do we do?"

Drax rummages hastily through the poorly stocked first aid kit. He pulls out the wads of gauze and leans over Peter, looking sadly at them. "He is losing too much blood," he tells them all, placing the gauze carefully over the still-bleeding wound on Peter's chest. It barely seems to slow the bleeding down. "And we need more medical supplies than this ship is equipped with."

"May I?" Mantis asks hesitantly, reaching her hands out slowly towards Peter's head, glancing at the other Guardians before finally landing on Gamora.

Gamora feels a surge of guilt, remembering her outburst against her earlier when Mantis was just trying to help, and knows she owes her an apology. She holds her gaze steadily, exhaling a shaky breath, hoping the sincerity is evident in her tone.

"Yes, Mantis," she croaks again, not even recognizing her own voice. "Please, if you can help him..."

Mantis nods, biting her lower lip, before taking a deep breath and placing her hands on either side of Peter's pale, still face. He doesn't respond to her touch.

Her antennae start to glow, and she instantly starts breathing heavily, her whole body growing tense.

"Oh no, oh no no no," she cries out, eyes tightly closed, her hands still on Peter's face.

"What? What is it?" Rocket demands, and Gamora finds she can't even talk, freezing in fear.

 _Oh no no no no no..._

"So much pain...but he's trying to, he's fighting to stay..." Mantis chokes out, removing her shaking hands from Peter now, eyes wet with unshed tears, and Gamora forgets how to breathe.

"Mantis, tell us what you know," Drax encourages urgently but gently, seeing how upset Mantis is but knowing time is of the essence. Mantis looks sadly up at all of them, her voice trembling as she drops the final blow.

"We're losing him..."

Gamora feels like someone has driven a knife right through her heart.

"Oh no we're not!" Rocket growls quickly, and Gamora tries to ignore that he actually looks _panicked_ now behind his tough facade. "Okay, I'm going to put this piece of junk into overdrive and get us to Xandar! _Now_."

He turns to leave, before hesitating a moment, expression both determined and grim. "Just keep Quill alive long enough to get 'im there." With that, he scurries back to the cockpit, Groot on his heels.

Drax turns back towards Peter, his expression grave. "His injuries are grevious, but we cannot give up."

Mantis looks over at Gamora, voice soft but still holding onto the edges of hope. "Keep talking to him. We must try to keep him awake."

Gamora nods in a daze, unable to respond as she watches Drax presses the gauze down on his chest as hard as he can without crushing Peter in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding, and her eyes betray her and start burning with tears. This should be hurting him but he isn't crying out, isn't even making a sound. Peter is never this quiet, never this still, and everything about this is just so _wrong_ that Gamora feels completely lost.

"Peter, stay awake," she finally says shakily, trying to follow Mantis' instruction, and suddenly finding that she is at a loss for words, but she manages them. For Peter, she can do this. She leans in closer then, trying to convey every ounce of authority that she doesn't feel into her voice. "Do you hear me? Stay awake!"

He's trying, she can tell, his eyes are fluttering shut all the time now but every few seconds it's like a jolt goes through him and he manages to open them again. But he never seems to find her, or any of them, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he fades away.

He was supposed to be fine…

"Peter, look at me! Come on, you have to fight this!" Her voice breaks, but she continues anyways. "You have to keep fighting..."

She's begging now, but she doesn't care. She can't lose him.

"We're almost there! Prepare for landing!" Rocket's voice rings out from the cockpit just then. "How's Quill?"

At his words, Groot peers his tiny head in anxiously through the doorway.

Drax glances up at Gamora before he answers and shouts back, "He is still alive!"

But the expression on his face when he turns back to Peter is hopeless and Gamora feels her heart nearly stop in fear.

This doesn't seem real. Just a little while ago they were wandering through the streets of Knowhere, following their target on what was supposed to be an easy mission, talking about the most mundane things in the universe. She doesn't even remember what they were talking about but it was so hard not to laugh, for _her_ not to laugh, and she had to keep slapping him on the arm (gently of course) to make sure they didn't blow their cover. She loved it. She loves being with him. Just a little while ago he was going to be fine and she was angry.

"Peter, you have to hang on...please…"

* * *

He stops opening his eyes.

It feels as though time has absolutely stood still from that moment to when they touch down at Xandar's hospital, and Gamora can't stand it. She holds his hand as Drax does what he can with a half-stocked first aid kit, and Mantis can't even reach Peter now when she puts her hands on his face again, because he's too far gone.

She tries not to see the desperation on Rocket's face when he checks in on Peter again, because he never shows fear as an emotion, and the fact that he's obviously scared is a fact she just can't deal with—she can't let herself think about what that means, because she is still trying to hope, even as Peter's hand doesn't move in hers and he doesn't respond when she calls his name. His wound is still bleeding, and it feels as though it will never stop.

There is blood in the corner of his mouth and she gets rid of it gently with her sleeve, barely able to steady her hand.

His face is so white. He looks so peaceful but she knows he doesn't want to die. He is not at peace, he can't be, he has to be fighting. He has to be fighting behind the fog that is keeping him from them, from _her_. She has to believe that there is a part of him that can even still fight, even as he bleeds out on the _Milano's_ floor, barely breathing now.

Even as she stares at his face, it seems impossible that this is real. There is a tiny corner of her mind that stubbornly refuses to believe this is actually happening, even though the rationale, pragmatic part of her knows it is, but she chooses to ignore it. Like a stupid, foolish child.

When they touch down, Xandarian doctors swarm them and she hears Rocket tell them about what happened, Groot clinging to his side, hears Drax having a hushed conversation with Mantis in the corner. She tries to block it out but hears their concerned tones and wants to scream.

And then she is ripped away from Peter when the waiting Xandarian medical team take him, and she chokes on a plea to stay with him, because she can't get in their way, these are the people who are going to save him. But then she remembers _stay_. And she promised him.

"Wait!"

They have lifted him onto a gurney, and there is a medical holo reading all his vitals rapidly, and they don't even seem to hear her as they start wheeling him away.

"I'm coming with you!" she cries, striding after them. She hears Rocket say "Ah crap!" and wants to throw something at him. He heard her promise.

One of the doctors turns to her as they walk and says, "We're doing everything we can for Mr. Quill but you have to let us work."

"You don't understand!"

"The best thing you can do for him right now is trust us, and let us help him."

"I'm not going to get in your way, I just need to stay with him!"

"That's not a good idea, I'm sorry."

"And I get that, but I promised him..."

"Please, you need to calm down!"

She won't hurt him because he's supposed to be helping, but there are three other people working on Peter, so she grabs this man's collar with both hands and slams him up against the wall, toes dangling several inches off the ground. He looks stunned and frightened and pale under his orange skin, and this is good—someone else is scared now.

"Gamora, enough!"

Drax's commanding voice comes from behind her but she ignores him. She looks at the doctor, who looks like he'll do anything she says just to get out of this situation. So she lets him down and he gives her a terrified nod, and he runs off after the other doctors who are taking Peter. No one else tries to stop her because she is completely capable of killing them all with her bare hands and they are well aware of that now.

She tries to follow him, but suddenly Drax and Rocket are blocking her view and she pushes back the instinct to remove them because they are trying to help.

"Get out of my way," she growls, voice low, dangerous. She made Peter a promise and she intends on keeping it.

"Look, Gamora, we're freaked out too, same as you," Rocket tries a placating tone with her first. "But we've gotta let them do their job if they're gonna help Quill, which means we gotta stay out of the way."

"I don't care," she snaps back, her nerves a badly frayed wire that she can't contain anymore. She made Peter a promise, and he needs her right now, she needs to be there...

"Rocket is right," Drax adds, giving her a sad, knowing look, that makes her want to fight them even more. She doesn't need their sympathy, she doesn't _want_ it. "We must not interfere with the doctors attempting to save Quill."

"Peter needs us right now, we need to be in there!" she shouts back, her voice cracking, and she knows she's dangerously close to falling apart.

"I am Groot," she hears a little voice plead behind her, and she wheels back around to see both Groot and Mantis staring at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"You don't understand," Gamora doesn't even recognize herself as she pleads with them, blinking back unwanted tears, "he needs us..."

The unspoken _needs me_ rings in the air between all of them, and Gamora clenches her jaw in a desperate, last ditch effort to reign in her emotions.

"What he needs right now," Drax says quietly, his booming voice unusually soft, and Gamora turns back to him and Rocket, "is for us to stay together, and let the doctors treat his ailments. We will not be of any use to them while they try to save him."

And damn it, Gamora knows he's right, but that doesn't make it any easier to take, any easier for her to handle having Peter out of her sight when he might be dying right now, and she needs to be there with him, she told him she would...

She squares herself, because she has to get to Peter, they just don't understand that. She takes another step, meaning to blow past Drax and Rocket, but they must know that's what she means to do, because the next thing she knows is Drax is shoving her backwards and Rocket is making a knowing gesture behind her.

The last thing she hears is " _sleep_ " as Mantis' hands brush her forehead, and then Gamora's word goes dark.

* * *

Gamora has never been one to wake up gently, living the life she has, and this is no exception.

She comes to with a start, jumping up to her feet unsteadily, already in fighting stance before she fully registers what's going on.

"Whoa, Gamora, take it easy!" she hears Rocket cry out from the corner of the room, but she vaguely even registers that he or the other Guardians are there as she tries to figure out what's going on.

But his voice does little to soothe her, because Peter is the only one who is good at that, the only one who can talk any of them down...

 _Peter. Oh God_.

"Peter," she chokes out, everything coming back to her in a crushing wave as awareness registers and her mind finally clears, "...where is he?"

"He is still with the doctors," Drax tells her quickly, moving forward towards her in the small, private, and painfully sterile waiting room they are currently in, as if to intervene should she try to go after Peter again.

"We still don't know," Rocket sighs heavily, ears flattening against his head.

"They should be back soon with news," Mantis adds hopefully from her spot on the other side of the room, Groot sitting in her lap. She swallows thickly when Gamora turns on her, because Gamora knows she can't even hide the anger on her face.

"You," Gamora growls, pointing a finger at her, trying to ignore how much she's still shaking, "if you ever pull a stunt like that on me again..."

"It was not her fault," Drax interrupts, pulling her attention back to him.

"Nah, it was ours," Rocket adds, pointing his clawed thumbs back at himself. "We told her to do it if we couldn't stop ya."

"Why would you even think that I would need to be stopped?" Gamora asks incredulously.

"I am Groot," the tiny tree adds, silencing the room for a moment.

"Well, he's not wrong," Rocket finally clarifies with a shrug, eyes settling on her, and suddenly the room fills entirely too small with all of them looking at her. "When it comes to Quill lately, you ain't always makin' the clearest judgments."

"It is not always easy to make wise decisions when it comes to the ones we love," Drax adds knowingly, a wistful expression on his face, and Gamora knows he _knows_ exactly what this feels like.

She's speechless, doesn't even have an argument for that one, and she sinks heavily into a chair in the corner of the room, as if she is a balloon all the air has been let out of.

Because they're right.

"I am sorry, I am truly sorry," Mantis breaks the silence after a moment, her voice both timid and sincere. "I should not have done that to you, Gamora."

"No, Mantis," Gamora's voice is hoarse, and she suddenly feels like she doesn't have any fight left, because she doesn't know what's happening to Peter, _none_ of them do, and they might still lose him. She looks back up at Mantis, hoping her gaze expresses what her words can not. "I'm the one who's sorry. For now, and for what I said earlier. You were just trying to help."

Mantis gives her a small smile and nods, accepting Gamora's apology.

Then Gamora turns away, and buries her face in her hands. There's been no word on Peter, and she thinks she might actually break if the doctors don't come back soon and tell them what's going on.

If she doesn't get the chance to tell him that she's ready to take their _spoken_ thing further, then she doesn't know what she will do. She's already wasted so much time, that she could have had with him, all because she was afraid of their unspoken thing finally becoming real.

And now, she realizes, it might be too late.

The rest of the team seems to sense her barely holding it together, and fall into silence, leaving her in peace in the corner as she tries and fails to hide her emotions.

Only moments later, but what seems like an eternity, a tall man with pale blue skin and kind eyes comes into the room, with a medical frock and badge that clearly indicate he is a doctor.

"Family of Peter Quill?" he asks calmly with a professional air to his tone, although he most certainly already knows who all of them are and that they are here for Peter.

Gamora is up out of her seat first and standing in front of him, eyes wide and desperate for news on Peter's condition, but somehow the words are lodged in her throat, and she can't get them out.

"We are his family," Drax answers firmly, coming to stand supportively at her side, as they all gather around the doctor in apprehension.

"Yeah doc, we are," Rocket confirms, Mantis and Groot standing behind him, "so tell us, how is he?"

The doctor nods, giving them a tight smile. "I won't lie to you, Guardians, it was close. We almost lost him."

"...But he's okay?" Gamora croaks, and she doesn't even recognize her own voice, is barely aware that the words came out of her mouth of their own volition.

"Yes, for the most part," the doctor smiles a little bigger, turning to look directly at her. "He's in recovery right now, being monitored by my attendants for the next few hours, but I have high hopes that he will pull through this without any further complications."

"That is most wonderful news!" Mantis beams, Groot hugging her neck tightly in excitement.

"Quill shall make a full recovery then?" Drax asks, still not completely convinced that Peter is really alright.

"I believe so," the doctor confirms with a patient look. "He's a fighter, there's no doubt about that. A lesser Terran wouldn't have survived this."

"Well, it's a good thing he's only half-Terran then," Rocket sighs heavily, obvious relief in his tone, the same relief that all of them are acutely feeling. "So when can we see 'im?"

Gamora's heart skips a beat, because she can't bear to wait another second from seeing Peter and confirming with her own two eyes that he's _alive_ , really alive, and healing.

Unfortunately, the doctor shakes his head at them. "I'm afraid it will still be a while before you can see him. You see, the weapon used on him was more than just a typical plasma blaster. It uses poison to slowly kill its target, as well as thinning the blood so the intended victim will hemorrhage more easily."

A chorus of growls and swears and death threats emerge from the Guardians at this information. If Gamora hadn't already disposed of the ones responsible for doing this to Peter, she'd be doing it again right now.

"As I was saying," the doctor continues calmly, effectively silencing them, "it's a newer black market weapon a lot of criminal low-lifes are using nowadays, and luckily we recognized it right away, or Mr. Quill wouldn't be with us right now. With this toxin still detoxing his system, he's still too critical for visitors, and needs to be monitored around the clock. Besides, he's still unconscious for the time being."

Gamora's heart sinks at this information.

"Is that normal for a humie?" Rocket asks with barely hidden concern. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

"Don't worry, he's out of danger for the most part, I assure you. It's not uncommon for a patient of Mr. Quill's genetic make-up to take awhile to return to consciousness, with everything he's been through," the doctor reassures them in a soothing tone. "Just give him some time to recover."

"Thank you, fair doctor," Drax claps him on the shoulder so hard that he stumbles. "You have saved our friend, and we are eternally grateful."

"Thank you!" Mantis adds, still beaming awkwardly at him, which is immediately followed by a happy "I am Groot!" from her shoulder.

"Yeah, doc, thanks a lot," Rocket adds, sounding sincere for once.

Gamora can't find her words, lost in a sea of overwhelmed emotions, and just nods at the doctor, hoping he understands.

He does, smiling gently at her. "My pleasure. When Mr. Quill is ready for visitors, or if there is any change, I'll send an attendant for you immediately."

With that, the doctor leaves the waiting room, leaving behind a very relieved group.

"Son of a bitch," Rocket breathes, half-relieved and half-annoyed because he'd been so worried in first place. "Quill actually pulled it off. He's still _alive_."

"It is wonderous news," Drax agrees, looking slightly shell shocked. "Quill is much tougher than I originally assumed. No one could recover from injuries as bad as those."

"But he's really going to be okay!" Mantis laughs in relief.

"I am Groot," Groot adds, jumping down off of her shoulder and coming over next to Rocket.

"Yeah, of course we were worried he wouldn't make it," Rocket replies irritably. "That was way too close this time. And we're gonna make sure he doesn't forget it, so maybe he won't go do some other dumbass thing again after this."

He pauses, voice growing a little more somber. "At least, ya know, we'll tell him when he wakes up."

Gamora hasn't said a word this entire time, her body stiff and rigid as she tries to reign in her emotions.

Peter's alive. Peter's _alive_.

Rocket was right, it had been too _close_ this time, and they'd nearly lost him for good. Honestly, after he had almost died on Ego's planet, before Yondu had sacrificed himself to save him, Gamora hadn't thought he'd have another brush with death again, at least not this soon.

How foolish.

But now, as she sinks down in a chair away from the rest of her team, amd buries her face in her hands once again, Gamora tries to slow her breathing as she realizes they've gotten yet another chance.

She also realizes this may be the last one, so she can't, she _won't_ , waste any more time.

"Gamora?" she hears Mantis hesitantly call her name, and she snaps her head back up to see the other four staring at her in concern.

"You, uh, okay over there?" Rocket asks her carefully.

She nods, clenching her jaw in order to steady herself.

"Be glad," Drax encourages, giving her a kind smile. "Quill is going to be alright."

Gamora chokes out a small laugh of disbelief, just shaking her head. It's all too much, all of the emotions she's feeling right now, but she finally looks back at them, unshed tears of relief shining in her eyes.

"Peter's alive," she whispers, just loud enough that they can all hear. "He's alive."

* * *

"When's he gonna freaking wake up already?"

"The doctor said we must have patience."

"I am Groot!"

"He has been through something quite terrible, but perhaps I could try to wake him?"

"No, we need to let him rest. He'll wake up when he's ready."

"Well, he's sure taking his sweet time with it! Typical Quill."

Peter is vaguely aware there are voices, floating past him, very familiar voices, just beyond where he is now.

But try as much as he can, he can't reach them. It's like he is stuck in some sort of a fog, unable to move, or speak, or even open his eyes.

And he has no idea where he is, or what the hell even happened to him.

He's not even sure if he's awake, or even alive, for that matter. Maybe he did _die_ , and he's stuck in some unending purgatory for the rest of existence.

God, that would suck.

But no, he can still feel pain, can feel a dull ache in his chest and a general lethargy all over, his limbs feeling leaden and useless. If he were really dead, he doesn't think he'd actually be able to feel anything. At least, he hopes not.

And if this is what the afterlife has in store for him, then he's going to be seriously pissed. He'd been banking at the very least to be able to harass Yondu for the rest of eternity.

He'd been more seriously counting on being able to see his mother again.

Feeling is slowly coming back to him now, awareness spreading through his body, and Peter starts hoping that maybe he's still alive after all.

The voices from before are gone now, but he can clearly hear the nearby whirring of machines, and the steady beeps of some type of controls. It feels like he's lying in some sort of a bed, but he's sure it's not the _Milano_.

And someone is most definitely holding his hand.

Warm fingers are interlaced tightly with his, and heat from the other person's palm is radiating against his.

If he didn't know better, he would swear that it felt like...

He finally opens his eyes.

Peter has to blink several times to clear his vision, his eyelids still heavy. The room he is in is dark, only the lights from the hallway and from the touchscreen holos above the bed monitoring his vitals lighting the room—damn it, so he did end up in a hospital, after all—and then he notices some very recognizable little light spores from Groot, floating around the room. He smiles at this, because although Groot is still too little to make a lot of them at once, Peter knows how much effort went into making these for him.

As his mind slowly clears and his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he notices the other Guardians sprawled out around the room, fast asleep.

Drax is leaning back in a chair in the corner of the room, head tipped back against the wall, snoring with his mouth wide open. Mantis is in a chair next to him, leaning against his shoulder and sleeping soundly, antennae lighting up every so often.

In the sill of the window by his bed, Rocket is curled up in a ball, looking suspiciously like how a cat from Earth might sleep, with Groot sprawled across his back, completely passed out in his fur.

Peter slowly turns to look at the other side of his bed, looking down at his pale fingers laced with green ones.

Gamora is in a chair next to his bed, holding tightly to his hand even as she sleeps, her head propped up on her other arm on the side of his bed.

Peter smiles with affection at first, at seeing her so openly care for him, but that quickly turns into a frown when he can clearly see the lines of worry drawn on her face, even in sleep. Gamora doesn't _do_ worried, or at least show it, because she has the best poker face of anyone he knows, and Peter feels a pang of guilt at realizing that he must be the cause.

Everything is coming back to him now, in bits and pieces. The surveillance mission, the gun aimed at Gamora, getting shot, her being mad at him, his condition rapidly deteriorating and feeling like he was dying, Gamora pleading with him to hang on, then darkness...

Yeah, so, he might have cut it a little close this time. No wonder Gamora looks worried.

With that, he squeezes their joined hands gently, hoping to wake her, to let her know that hey, he's okay—but it happens to be the arm near where he got shot, and he groans in pain as he moves, fire flaring through the injury.

Gamora sits up instantly, eyes wide as she takes in any possible threats, and then their eyes finally meet, and he can see a thousand emotions swimming in hers as she holds his gaze.

"...Peter?" she whispers, and he can hear the mix of anticipation and relief in her voice at finally seeing him awake.

"Hey," he whispers hoarsely—and whoa, does it sound like he swallowed gravel—but he gives her what he hopes is his most charming smile, although it feels more like a grimace.

Before they can say anything else, there is a blur from over by the window, and suddenly Groot lands in his lap, face lit up with excitement.

"I am Groot! I am Groot!" the tiny tree exclaims, before jumping onto Peter's chest and wrapping his wooden arms tightly around his neck.

Peter can't hold back a pained grunt as Groot jostles his wound, sucking in a breath as he raises a free hand to gently pat his small back in reassurance. "Hey there, little buddy. Glad to see you too."

"Groot, come on, be careful! He's still got a hole in 'im, geez," Peter hears Rocket exclaim from the window.

"Quill, you are awake!" Drax bellows from the other side of the room as he and Mantis sit up.

Everyone is _definitely_ awake now.

Groot pulls back, letting go of his death grip on Peter, now looking afraid that he had hurt him somehow. "I am Groot..."

"Nah, don't worry, I'm fine," he quickly reassures him, patting him gently on the head and failing to hide a wince as he moves. He forces a smile. "Really."

"Saying you are 'fine' would be an exaggeration," Gamora admonishes him gently, and he turns back to look at her, the relief clearly etched on her face.

He sighs, giving their still joined hands a reassuring squeeze. "Well, I'm a lot better than I was."

"Yeah, I'll say," Rocket grouses, jumping off the window sill and onto the foot of his bed near his feet, so that he can appropriately glare at him. "You tried to bleed to death all over the d'ast ship before we got you here."

"We were really worried about you," Mantis adds softly from the corner where she is still sitting with Drax, looking at him with wide eyes.

"We were not sure that you would live," Drax chimes in solemnly. "We were fairly certain that you were too weak to survive such an injury."

"Yeah, so it turns out, that fancy new blaster the a-hole who shot you used is more than just yer standard plasma prototype," Rocket explains with a growl. "It actually poisons its target, just in case the plasma don't do the job. Also thins out yer blood, apparently, so you'll bleed out faster."

Well, _that_ explains a lot. Peter had known something was different about it when he'd been hit, and now he knew why.

Rocket sighs then, angry expression fading into something more serious. "Honestly, it's a d'ast miracle you even survived this. You nearly died, Quill."

Mantis and Groot nod while Drax hums his agreement. He feels Gamora tighten her grip on his hand.

"Good thing I'm a lot tougher than I look," Peter tries to joke, slightly uncomfortable that they are all so worried about him, all staring at him with love and concern, while at the same time being so grateful to have friends like this in his life, to have a _family_ like this.

He isn't sure he deserves them.

"Look, guys, I'm sorry I scared you, but I'm okay now," he answers, his voice thick with emotion, because damn it he almost died, and these people made sure he didn't. "Really."

"You will be after you rest," Gamora replies quietly but firmly, leaving no room for argument. Peter knows better than to try and challenge her when she's like this, even though it feels as though he's already been in bed for days.

"Guess that means I'm not leaving this place anytime soon, huh?" he smiles ruefully, gesturing around the hospital room with his free hand.

"Not a chance," Rocket smirks, giving his leg a quick slap. "We're gonna have to wrap you up in bubble wrap before you leave here, anyways."

Peter can't help but roll his eyes, although he's also smiling because Rocket has inadvertently used one of his Earth expressions. "Yeah, yeah, read me the riot act later."

"Riot act?" Drax looks puzzled, and slightly defensive. "Is there going to be some sort of a..."

"No," Gamora cuts him off quickly, as Peter and Rocket both sigh in relief. Drax was getting better at picking up on meanings, but it was still a struggle. "The only thing happening now is that we are leaving, so that Peter can rest."

"I am Groot," Groot protests, but Rocket just scoops him up and throws him on his shoulder.

"Of course we'll come back and see the idiot tomorrow," Rocket reassures him. He turns back towards Peter. "Try not to fall out of bed or something, will ya?"

Peter can recognize his badly hidden concern, and can't help the smirk that crosses his face. "I'll do my best, Ranger Rick."

Rocket mumbles something under his breath as he leaves the room, Groot waving from his shoulder as they disappear out the door. Peter knows Rocket is only going easy on him right now because he's confined to a hospital bed, but it's not stopping him from using that to his advantage.

"I am so glad that you are feeling better," Mantis beams at him as her and Drax come closer to the bed to say good-bye.

"Indeed, it is good to see you awake, Quill," Drax gives a single nod, eyes sincere.

"Thanks guys," Peter smiles warmly at them, "for everything." They nod, then walk out the door, following after Rocket and Groot.

Which just leaves Gamora, still holding his hand. Silence falls between them for moment, before Peter can't stand it anymore.

"So I guess you're staying..." he begins, before she abruptly cuts him off.

"I thought I lost you, Peter," she says quietly, not making eye contact, just staring at their joined hands, her voice hollow and broken. "I was so angry, at first, because you were so reckless, because you saved my life...almost at the expense of yours."

Peter opens his mouth to say something, to reassure her that he knew what he was doing, and that he'd do it all over again, but the pained look on her face stops him. He swallows thickly instead as she continues.

"And then you were...you were dying, and I couldn't stop it, I couldn't do anything..." she trails off with a shuddering breath, still avoiding his gaze.

Peter feels a pang in his heart at her words, at how much he scared her, at how upset she looks, and he desperately wants to fix it. He squeezes her hand again, trying to get her to look up at him. "God, I'm sorry, Gamora. But I had to do it, because..."

She cuts him off once again, but this time by suddenly standing up, leaning across the bed, and kissing him.

It is the first time they've ever kissed, and it's just as kick ass and amazing and perfect as Peter always knew it would be.

Of course, he'd never really pictured it while he was in a hospital bed with a bullet hole in his chest, but hey, he's not gonna complain about Gamora finally kissing him, no matter what the circumstances.

He reaches a hand up into her hair, desperately pulling her closer to him, and she grips the sides of his face in hers, deepening the kiss.

After a moment, she pulls back, slightly breathless. Peter stares back at her in a mixture of awe and shock, face flushed from their unexpected make-out.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, eyes still locked in the soft darkness of the room, until Peter reaches up with his good arm and cups her cheek gently.

"Gamora, what..?" he starts, at a loss for words, brows furrowed in confusion, because he has no idea what just happened. Of course, he can't help himself, and a moment later a wide grin spreads across his face. "Not that I'm complaining, or anything, because that was _awesome_ , seriously, but why did you just..."

She silences him with another kiss, longer than before, and Peter groans in surprise into her mouth.

He could really _really_ get used to doing this with her.

Gamora pulls back again, slowly, but she is smiling now too, looking strangely light and free in a way he rarely sees her. He looks back at her fondly, reaching up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Peter," she sighs heavily, sitting down on the edge of the bed now to be closer to him. "I almost didn't get a chance for this," she continues more softly, running a finger lightly up his chest, careful to avoid his bandages, "and in those terrible moments when I didn't know if you would be alright until the doctor told us that you would be...I realized something."

"What's that?" he encourages her gently, knowing how hard it is for her to put things like this into words, and his heart swells with even more affection for her.

Gamora looks back up at him with a soft smile, eyes blazing. "I don't want to waste any more time."

And with that, she's kissing him again, all warm and soft and meant for him. Peter thinks if he actually died right now, instead, then he would still die happy.

They pull apart again after a minute when Peter's accelerating heart rate starts setting off the monitors on the wall holo, foreheads pressed together as they try to slow their breathing, but Peter can't help but laugh, causing Gamora to laugh as well.

After they regain their composure and Peter's heart rate returns to normal, he beams up at her, unable to stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face.

"You're amazing," he breathes, eyes shining. "And let me tell you, I feel one _hundred_ percent better now. What do ya say we bust me out of this place and go do more of that on the _Milano_?"

Gamora smirks at him, gently running her hand through his hair, and he leans into her touch. It feels amazing when she touches him. "Nice try Peter, but there is no way are you leaving this place until the doctors give you a clean bill of health."

Peter sighs, because he figured that'd be her response, but he also figures he can at least try for another kiss.

"Then get back over here," he pulls her down to him, hungry to feel her lips against his again. Gamora sighs into his mouth, melting into him...until the heart monitor starts going off again, and she immediately pulls back with a frown.

"No, no, just ignore it," Peter mutters, and he wishes he had his blasters so he could shoot that stupid holo. He tries to pull her back to him again, because he never wants to stop kissing her, now that he knows this a thing they do, but she resists this time, smiling down at him in amusement.

"Peter," Gamora shakes her head, slapping him fondly on the arm as she deftly escapes his grasp. "We should stop. You need to rest, and I should probably go."

"Nuh uh, no way," Peter grabs her hand again, interlocking their fingers firmly. "You can't just leave me after _that_. Besides, I'll heal way better if you're here with me."

She purses her lips, as if seriously debating it for a moment. "You will heal better if I'm not..."

"Fine, fine, no more making out—well tonight at least, because I definitely want _more_ of that later," Peter interrupts, waggling his eyebrows at her, causing Gamora to roll her eyes, but she's still smiling. "But at the very least you can cuddle with me all night."

Gamora sighs, and Peter can tell she's torn with indecision, that she doesn't want to leave him but that she also wants him to rest and heal. "I don't know, Peter..."

"Gamora, please," Peter gives her what he hopes are his best puppy dog eyes, because he's way past playing fair at this point, his voice soft and pleading. "Stay."

There's something about what he says that seems to instantly change her mind. She freezes, looking at him intensely, something deep and unreadable in her eyes.

Then she nods, smiling softly at him, before conceding and curling up against his uninjured side in the bed without further argument. Peter quickly scoots over to allow her more room, not even caring when pain flares across his wound once again. Nothing is going to stop him from the chance of having Gamora in the same bed as him—even if it's a tiny hospital bed.

She presses closer to him, her head against his shoulder and her arm looping around his waist, holding him as though she will never let go. Peter lets his head drop down and rest against her forehead, sighing in contentment as he gently strokes the skin of her arm around him. He's been waiting for this for so long from her, it doesn't even feel real.

It was so worth the wait.

And even though he's in a cramped hospital bed with a blaster wound in his chest and sensors beeping all around him, Peter has never slept better in his entire life.

* * *

 **I know technically the** _ **Milano**_ **was destroyed in Vol. 2-but let's just pretend they fixed it up yet** _ **again**_ **for this chapter.**

 **Thanks for reading! Chapter 4 should be coming soon-ish.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh boy, I've wanted to write this concept for a long time in one of my fandoms...and it finally fit here. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **Warnings for a little bit of Peter whump, a little bit of smut (it's just at the end though if that's not your tea), mentions of forced slavery, Rocket's mouth, and lots of Starmora feels.**

 **Special thanks to Katie, Aerilon, Supergeek1810, and Frida521 for your reviews and support!**

 **Again...this chapter is rated M, just for the ending.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Four**

" _Okay a-holes, this whole place is set to blow in ten minutes, everybody get outta there now!"_

"Copy that, Ranger Rick," Peter replies back through the comms, glancing over at Gamora with a smirk on his face. She barely suppresses a smile at Rocket's string of expletives in response to the hated nickname. "Gamora and I are headed back now."

 _10:00_

" _Mantis and I have already exited the premises,"_ Drax's voice suddenly booms in response in their ears, making both Peter and Gamora wince.

"We'll meet you guys up top in less than five," Peter responds again, as he and Gamora quickly start making their way back towards the front of the building. "Just make sure the _Benatar_ is ready to roll."

" _I am Groot!"_

" _No, Groot, stay off the comms, come on,_ " Rocket grumbles in their ears. " _Well hurry it up, or we're leaving ya both to get fried when this place blows planetside."_

 _9:47_

Peter just rolls his eyes at Rocket's empty threat, but he and Gamora both silently pick up their pace. This building is huge, and a relative maze inside, and they can't waste any time if they want to be clear when all of the explosives they've just planted detonate.

To be honest, they may have gone a _little_ overboard with the amount of explosives they'd used, but they wanted to make sure the horrific compound the Kree slave traders used as a holding point for their victims was completely decimated, with no hope of ever rebuilding.

So yeah, they may have used a little prejudice when storming this place and rigging it to burn to the ground, but Peter doesn't think that it's a bad thing when it comes to ruining the slavers' operation in the long run.

Gamora has been relatively quiet the entire time she has been with him on this mission, setting different explosive devices around their designated part of the building, lost deeply in her own thoughts. Peter knows it's because this horrible place reminds her of her living conditions under Thanos, how his imprisonment of her and Nebula and their so-called siblings wasn't all that different from this.

Peter swears to himself that if he ever meets that big purple bastard he's going to blast him square in the face...

He quickly pulls himself out of his wandering thoughts, because they don't really have a lot of time to mess with right now, and focuses on Gamora instead as they weave around yet another dark corner in yet another dark, cold hallway of this horrid place. There's no windows here, just long, narrow, dimly lit hallways with solid metal doors lining the sides, indicating the holding cells for innocent people forced into slavery. The misery of this place is almost palpable enough that they can actually _feel_ it.

"Hey, you okay?" Peter finally asks as they hurriedly stride down the long hallway, sparing her a sideways glance.

Gamora looks back at him, her lips pursed tightly before she replies. "I'm just ready to be out of this place."

Peter nods, because he gets that, he really does. This place is creepy and terrible and reminds him of what a torture chamber must look like, so he can only imagine how this makes Gamora feel, and he can't help the surge of anger that swells through him at the thought of Thanos again. He pushes it back down, though, because they _really_ need to get out of here before this entire place comes down on top of them.

 _9:01_

"Yeah, me too," he says with a shudder. "This place gives me the creeps."

Gamora scoffs in agreement. "This place reeks of pain and suffering."

Peter wholeheartedly agrees. "Good thing it's about to be nothing but dust in nine minutes."

"In eight minutes and fifty-two seconds," she automatically corrects him, but he can't even be irritated when it brings just the barest hint of a smirk to her face.

"All the more reason for us to high-tail it the heck out of here," he gives her an amused smile, although they can't be any more than one minute away from the exit.

But when they round the next corner, Gamora freezes suddenly, sensing something that Peter had entirely missed, thanks to her body mods. He almost doesn't realize she's stopped, until she suddenly isn't at his side anymore.

He turns back to find her frozen in place, looking at one of the closed, rusted metal doors along the hallway, staring at it with a certain amount of intensity that Peter only sees when things are about to go to hell. He swallows hard, coming back towards her, knowing better than to grab her arm when she is in this kind of state—as much as he wants to.

"Uh, hey, Gamora, this isn't really a good time for sight-seeing," he tries carefully to get her attention, because time is rapidly counting down.

 _8:36_

"There's something in there," she says quietly, almost a whisper, still staring at the door, body rigid and tensing for a fight.

"It's probably just a few Kree that we missed," Peter tries to reassure her, because they need to leave, like, _now_. There were only a few slave traders stationed at the compound when they'd arrived, and they'd quickly taken care of them. Most of the slaves were already off planet, unfortunately, probably being traded, but they had managed to free a small group and get them safely onboard the ship already. The important thing now is that destroying this compound will significantly hinder the traders' operations.

"So, it doesn't really matter because this whole building is about to go, and actually," he motions with his head at the direction they were headed, "so should we."

But Gamora just shakes her head, pulling out Godslayer in one swift motion. "No, Peter...that's not it."

Peter sighs heavily in response, but he's already pulling his blasters back out, because he knows what's about to happen. "Okay, then let's find out what's behind door number two."

He knows Gamora, better than anyone ever really has, and he knows better than to question her when she's on a mission. Besides, he'd willingly follow her to the ends of the galaxy, no questions asked, and she knows it.

 _8:04_

Gamora kicks in the door in one swift motion, and even though it is solid steel and meant to keep anyone from easily coming in or out, it is no match for a Gamora full of vengeance. Peter can't help but still be awed when she does things like this, even after these last few years together, and he has to consciously remind himself to snap his jaw shut before she catches him.

The door crumbles at the hinges, and all she has to do is push against it a little more, and it topples to the side. She quickly steps over it and into the room, sword raised, and he follows behind her, hopping less than gracefully over the ruined door as he holds his blasters out in front of him.

Gamora is already standing at the back of the small room, which is likely one of the slave holding cells, Peter realizes with a pang of disgust and anger. She's frozen again, staring at something he can't yet see in the darkness, but he hears the absolute horror in her voice when she says his name.

"Peter..."

He comes to a stop at her side, and his eyes widen when he realizes what she's looking at.

Two small children, a boy and a girl, are huddled together in the corner, cowering in fear. They're probably Krylorian from the looks of it, but it's impossible to really tell under the dirt and grime and tattered clothes they are in, trapped in place by a visible force field in the back of the room.

"Those Kree bastards," Peter growls, seeing red at the prospect of the slave traders for not only using kids, but for also leaving them here to die. Rocket had scanned the building earlier, and they had determined that there were no more living beings present in the building before they had started laying the explosives.

Somehow, the _Benatar's_ scanning system had missed these two children, but that seems unlikely because the _Benatar_ is a brand new ship with state-of-the-art tech, and Peter immediately realizes that this isn't a concidence. Something in this room is intentionally blocking the signal—on purpose.

Gamora realizes it to.

"We have to help them," she tells him urgently, although they both know this is probably some sort of a trap.

He nods quickly in agreement. No matter what, there is no way in _hell_ they are leaving these kids behind, set-up or not. "Yeah, let's get them outta of here. But we have to hurry!"

 _7:22_

Gamora holds up her sword without hesitation, meaning to strike the power source for the force field, located up on the wall above their heads in order to free them, but both of the children shriek in fear, huddling together even more tightly with their eyes closed.

"Whoa, Gamora, wait a second!" Peter holds up a hand to stop her. At her questioning look, he explains, "The kids are freaked. We have to let them know we're here to help."

"Peter, I get that," Gamora hisses back between gritted teeth, "but there isn't any time for that right now!"

And she's right, there _isn't_ , but he still shakes his head. "I know, but they won't come with us if they're scared out of their minds."

Gamora huffs impatiently, but nods in agreement, dropping her sword back down by her side. Peter shoots her what he hopes is a reassuring smile, before holstering his guns and kneeling down to be eye level with the kids, as close as he can without touching the force field between them, using the calmest voice he can muster.

 _6:58_

"Hey, uh, kiddos," he begins, and the kids look at him, still shaking in terror. "Listen, we're here to help, okay? But we need you to come with us, like right _now_ , actually, so that we can get the heck out of here."

"Don't hurt us!" the little girl sobs, clearly the older of the two, pulling the boy closer to her, and Peter's heart breaks at the fear in her voice. Who knows what hell the slavers have already put them through. It's a painfully familiar fear that he remembers from when Yondu abducted him and his whole world fell apart.

"We're not going to hurt you," Gamora tries to help, but the kids cry out even more when she comes closer. She hesitates, taking another step back. Having both of them so close is overwhelming, which she realizes, because they don't know if they're _really_ here to help them or not, and they've already seen her terrifying sword, so she moves further away to let Peter try and work his magic.

"She's right," Peter gives them his most winning smile. "We are here to set you free, and take you home. We're the good guys. Promise!"

But the kids still don't look convinced, and time is definitely of the essence, when Peter suddenly thinks of something else, a last ditch tactic to try.

"Yeah, we're the good guys, sort of like superheroes," he continues, slowly reaching up behind his ear. "And you know what, I bet you guys know a few superheroes, right?" Both kids stare back at him, eyes wide, as he activates his helmet.

As the mask slides into place, the kids both suck in a surprised breath, before the little boy hesitantly asks, "...Star-Lord?"

Bingo.

"Yup, that's me," Peter nods quickly, voice still muffled by the helmet. He had gone on a hunch that the kids might recognize it, because for whatever reason that's how everyone in the galaxy _always_ seems to recognize who he is. In fact, Dey's daughter always insisted he wear it every time they visited Xandar, so he knew for a fact that a lot of the kids loved it.

Whatever works.

He smiles behind the mask, even though they can't see it, and points at Gamora. "And that over there is Gamora, another Guardian of the Galaxy."

Gamora smiles, trying her best to look reassuring. "That is true. And we are to help you."

"So will you come with us?" Peter asks again, helmet still in place since it seems to make them feel more comfortable, look slightly less afraid of them.

 _6:27_

Both kids nod, still sniffling, but decidedly calmer than before. They still flinch when Gamora raises her sword again, but Peter quickly reassures them it's just to break the force field and set them free.

But the moment Gamora cleanly breaks the power source off from the wall, deactivating the force field, an explosion from the floor above rocks the entire building, sending debris raining down on top of them.

It _was_ a trap.

"Look out!" Peter yells, but Gamora is already one step ahead of him, reaching for the kids. They quickly dive over top of them, protecting them as chunks of metal and concrete ceiling fall down all around them. Their comms light up a moment later.

" _Quill! Gamora! What the hell was that?"_ Rocket all but shrieks in their ears. " _The explosives ain't rigged to go off for another six minutes!"_

"Yeah, trust me, we're aware!" Peter bites back breathlessly through the comms in response, shaking pieces of crumbled ceiling tile off his shoulders. "But we ran into a little bit of a snag back here."

" _Snag? What the flarkin' hell does that mean? What did you do Quill?_ " Rocket demands in response to the decidedly dangerous situation they are now in.

"He didn't do anything," Gamora snaps back before Peter can even reply. "We found some hostages, but it was a set-up. It set off something above us."

" _Ah, crap,_ " Rocket growls in response, " _well, whatever it did, it's gonna set off a chain reaction, so you guys better get outta there now!"_

 _5:38_

" _Quill! Gamora! We will come to your assistance!_ " Drax chimes in, over the shouts of Rocket and Groot and Mantis in the background.

"No, no way Drax," Peter replies urgently, because he doesn't want the rest of them coming in and risking their lives, "we'll be okay, we've got the kids now, and we're gonna run like hell. Just wait at the ship for us, okay?"

" _That is a terrible idea,_ " Drax's voice is heavy, but willing, " _but we will wait here for your safe return_." He is becoming more amenable to listening to Peter with each mission, although it's far from perfect. He is still better than Rocket, anyhow.

" _Those d'ast bastards had kids in here?!_ " Rocket's voice is both incredulous and pissed. " _We shoulda shot a couple more holes in 'em."_

Then he pauses for a moment, voice laced with barely hidden concern, because all of them know that time is running out. _"Look, just hurry and get out here with those kids, will ya?"_

"We're on our way," Gamora says firmly, as her and Peter lock eyes. Then, they each grab one of the children, pulling them up to their feet and grabbing their hands tightly.

And then they _run_.

Another explosion echoes above them as they run out into the hallway, making them both stumble as the building shakes violently from the force. Peter rolls just quickly enough so that the little girl lands on him and not the other way around.

Gamora is graceful enough that she catches the boy and manages to keep them both upright. She yanks Peter up by his free arm without even looking back, pulling him up behind her as they pick up the kids and drag them along with them in a dead run.

The children are still scared, but know that they are here to help them now, and they cling to them as they run quite literally for their lives.

Another explosion echoes on the floors above them, and Peter knows that Rocket was right. Whatever device that had been set off when they freed the kids is now setting off each of the explosives they had rigged, and this whole place is going to come down on top of them in a hell of a lot sooner than in five minutes.

 _4:59_

And then, they see it. Around the last corner, there is daylight, faintly shining through the blasted out door down at the very far end of the corridor. They are so close now, they can almost taste it, but at the same time, the final corridor is so long that they are barely going to make it out as it is.

Almost there...

But at that very moment, yet another explosion rocks above them, showering them and the children with more material and debris. Peter pulls the girl more tightly into his arms, protectively hunching over her, and sees through the red tinted vision of his mask that Gamora is doing the same with the little boy. After the ceiling stops raining down on them, they both stand back up to pull the children with them towards the exit, but now thick, acrid smoke from the floor above is suddenly filling the corridor between them and their escape, making it impossible to see or breathe.

Peter knows if it wasn't for his helmet in that moment he'd be completely useless, but luckily he can still breathe for the moment, and even somewhat see with the heat vision in his mask. Gamora has picked up the boy and tried to hide his face in her coat so he can breathe, and Peter does the same with the little girl, pulling her safely against his chest.

"Come on!" he shouts to Gamora, and she just nods in response, coughing haggardly against the smoke as she tries to breathe. Peter is the only one who can basically see at the moment, so he leads the way, Gamora right behind him.

They only make it a few more steps before Peter and Gamora hear a loud creaking noise from directly above them, but Gamora can't see what's happening through the thick smoke.

Peter can.

The weakened structure of the building from the explosions that have already been set off have destroyed the floor above them, and it's about to cave in. He can see the cement ceiling above them about to give way, and he looks around franctically for a solution, because there's no way they can out run the collapse, especially with the kids.

And that's when Peter sees it, a small side hallway immediately to their right, and not in the direct path of the upcoming cave in.

He isn't sure if Gamora can see it through the smoke, but there isn't time, and he quickly realizes that there's only one option.

"Gamora! To the right! Go _right_!" Peter all but screams at her as a deafening roar comes from above them, just as the ceiling of the main hallway directly above them gives way.

Gamora has started in that direction, but she still can't really see where she's going, following Peter's commands blindly out of trust.

But it isn't fast enough, and Peter realizes that...one second before Gamora does.

Using a quick boost from his rocket boots, he flies forward and shoves Gamora and both kids to the right and into the safety of the side hallway alcove, just as the entire ceiling comes down on top of him.

* * *

Gamora is momentarily stunned as she lands hard on her back, one of the few times in her life that she hasn't landed on her feet. Both children have landed on her, safely cushioned from hitting the cement floor.

She groans, shaking her head quickly to clear the fog, and jumps back up, pulling both children to their feet without a moment's hesitation. Miraculously, they have escaped unharmed, and there is even enough space for them to climb back through into the collapsed main hallway and towards the exit.

It is at that moment that Gamora realizes they are one person short, and her blood runs cold.

"Peter!"

He was right behind them, she was _sure_ of it, in fact he was the one who had pushed them in here.

But he didn't make it.

 _3:56_

"Peter!" she calls out again, looking at the solid pile of debris blocking the hallway in the direction from which they had just come. The hallway appears to have completely collapsed where they were just standing moments ago, the entire path behind them blocked off. She starts furiously digging through it, as though she might find him in the collapsed concrete ceiling tiles and metal ties somehow.

She will find him, because she refuses to believe any other scenario, she can't, because he's fine, he _has_ to be.

"Peter, where are you? Answer me!"

"Gamora!" she nearly collapses with relief at the sound of his voice, muffled somewhere on the other side of the pile of collapsed debris. There's a small hole just big enough that they can hear each other, but not quite see each other. "Hey, I'm right here."

"Peter, are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asks urgently, wondering how he is even standing right now, but not wanting to dwell on it. Peter is incredibly resilient and always has been, and being half-Terran has never really made him the weakest one on the team.

However, it has definitely never stopped him from being both self-sacrificing and reckless, which is something she both loves and hates about him.

"No, no, I'm good," Peter responds, coughing once that sounds too pained to be the truth, but Gamora knows they can't focus on that now, not if they want to get out of this alive. If he's up and talking, then he must be relatively okay, and she can tend to his injuries once they get back to the ship and safely away from this hell hole.

Except his next words stop her dead in her tracks. "But, uh, we have a problem."

"Peter, what do you..." Gamora begins, but another explosion, this time from the other side of the building, echoes in the distance, and it reminds them all too painfully well that they only have literal minutes, maybe less, until this entire place goes down.

 _3:07_

"I'm trapped over here," Peter answers, sounding less panicked then he should. "The hallway is completely caved in on this side, and there's no way around it."

"Well, hold on, I'll start digging you out on this side, and if you..." she says, determined, but Peter quickly cuts her off.

"Gamora," his voice has that soft sort of calm to it that she hates, because she knows he's going to say something that she doesn't want to hear—even if he's right. "You know that's not gonna work. There isn't time."

"No," Gamora says firmly, shaking her head even though he can't see it, "no Peter, we're not doing this."

"Gamora, we _have_ to," he responds, and she can already hear how resigned he sounds, and she wishes she could actually see him right now so maybe she could shake some sense into him.

"No!" she shouts back, not even noticing the children shrink back behind her at the ferocity in her tone, "I'm not going to just leave you behind, Peter! I won't do that, I would _never_ do that."

"Gam, I know," she can hear him sigh heavily from the other side of the rubble, "but we have to get these kids out of here. _You_ have to—you have to save them. That's all that matters right now."

 _2:43_

"Peter," Gamora can barely keep her voice steady now, even though she knows he is right. These children are innocent victims, just like her and Peter were once, and saving them now is just as much personal as it is the morally right thing to do, is part of what they'd signed up for when they'd become the Guardians of the Galaxy. Regardless of anything else, they have to put the children's safety first.

Her voice is pained as she swallows down the urge to stay with him instead. "How do you expect me to just leave you here?"

"Hey, look, it'll be fine, alright? I can still see with my mask on, and there's gotta be another way out of here," Peter's tone is a little more upbeat now, and she can practically see the cocky smile that would be on his face if they could actually see each other. "Just go, get the kids out of here, and wait for me at the ship."

Gamora has a sinking feeling he's just saying that so that she'll leave, but she glances back at the two innocent faces behind her, and knows there really isn't another choice.

"Okay," she replies heavily, eyes closed as she takes a deep breath to steady herself, to refocus on the mission at hand and viciously push her emotions back down, relying heavily on her years of training to keep it together. "Then go. But promise me, Peter, _promise me_ that you'll make it out of here."

"I promise," he says resolutely from the other side, and Gamora isn't blinking back tears, she _isn't_ , it's just irritation from the smoke.

"Then I'll see you at the ship," she says firmly, hoping that Peter can feel the strength of her words, of how much she needs him to keep his promise.

With that, she grabs both children, one in each hand, and runs the last stretch of the corridor towards the exit.

 _2:17_

She's onboard the ship only moments later, Rocket having brought the _Benatar_ down dangerously close to hover near the building, and she can feel all eyes on them as she stumbles aboard with two kids in tow, breathing hard and looking lost, with Peter nowhere to be found.

"Where's Quill?" Rocket asks quickly, scanning her up and down for answers.

"He's coming," she replies, hoping she sounds more convincing then she feels. "There was a cave-in, and he got trapped on the other side. He has to find another way out."

"Star-Lord saved us," the little girl pipes up just then, looking around at all of the Guardians with wide eyes.

"He is very brave," Mantis smiles at the children, who are instantly drawn to her gentle nature. They cling to her for a moment before they go join the other rescued slaves in the back of the ship.

"But he will never make it out in time," Drax says then solemnly, causing all of the other Guardians to turn and glare at him.

"I am Groot!" Groot snaps in response. He's nearly a teenager now, and he's getting sassier by the day.

"Whoa, Groot, take it easy," Rocket chastises for a minute, before looking back at Gamora. "But he's not wrong. How the heck is Quill gonna make it out of there in time? This whole place is about to blow!"

"Because I'm going back for him," Gamora says resolutely, turning to leave the ship again. She had already made up her mind about that the minute she had left Peter behind, and she swore to herself she would never do that again.

She looks over her shoulder with a hard stare, silencing any potential protests from Rocket and the others, remembering a time all too similar to this when she had been stopped once before. "And this time, no one is going to stop me."

" _No, Gamora,_ " Peter's voice suddenly echoes in all of their ears through the comms.

"Peter!" Gamora breathes out a sigh of relief, but it's short-lived. "Peter, where are you?"

"Quill! You outta the building yet? You've got less than two minutes!" Rocket adds urgently. "You better haul ass and get here now!"

" _Uh, yeah, guys...so here's the thing,"_ Peter huffs out a laugh, but it's humorless and empty. " _I don't think I'm gonna make it."_

They all freeze, staring at each other in horror and confusion at his words, before Gamora finally speaks.

"Peter," her voice is hard, because anything less than that right now and she'll break, "what are you talking about?"

" _I tried to backtrack and find another way out_ ," Peter replies, breathlessly now, like he's been running, which he probably has been this whole time, " _but the explosions started going off on the other side too, and the whole west corner is already gone. This place is hanging on by a thread. There's no way out."_

"Then we will come for you!" Drax responds determinedly into the comms, already pulling out his knives, getting ready to follow suit behind Gamora.

"Yeah, Quill, just sit tight, we're comin' for ya, ya dumb humie," Rocket adds, grabbing an aero-rig. "And then we're gonna have a long talk about you always puttin' yerself in these life-or-death situations, and by proxy always puttin' _us_ in these life-or-death situations when we have to come save your sorry ass."

" _No, guys, listen to me...you can't,_ " Peter's voice is in captain mode now, and although they barely listen to him half the time, something about his tone immediately silences them all. " _Don't—don't come for me."_

"Quill, what..." Rocket starts in surprise, confused at Peter's order.

" _No_ ," Peter interrupts firmly, but there's a heavy sadness to his words. He pauses, blowing out a deep breath over the comms, and his next words feel like a hammer.

" _There's not enough time."_

 _0:53_

"Peter," Gamora's voice breaks against her will, "Peter, we are not just going to leave you in there to _die_!"

" _Gamora...I'm sorry,"_ Peter's voice is almost wistful now, and full of regret, and she hates him for it, for making her love him and then just throwing his life away so carelessly, without thinking about what it would do to their little makeshift family.

About what it would do to _her_.

"Screw that, Quill, we're comin' for ya!" Rocket snaps, refusing to take Peter's final orders. "So you can stop being so dramatic."

"We will not leave without you," Drax adds with an air of determination.

"But we must hurry," Mantis murmurs, eyes wide as she eyes the countdown clock Rocket had set on the main table. "We do not have very much time."

"I am Groot!" Groot chimes in, standing up taller as they make to leave the ship.

" _No you're not!"_ Peter argues, but his commanding tone wavers a little bit, " _y_ - _you're not._ " He pauses, before quietly adding, " _Besides...you don't know where I am."_

"Son of a bitch!" Rocket snarls, hitting some controls on the main panel furiously. "Quill, did you turn off your locator?"

" _I'm sorry,"_ Peter replies hoarsely, " _but I—I had to."_

And they all know that what he means is that it's the only way he can keep them all safe, to keep them from coming after him and getting themselves killed in the process.

"You idiot, that's suicide!" Rocket all but screams at him, pulling up several touchscreens. "Turn it back on right _now_!"

Peter clears his throat roughly in their ears before he replies. " _You know I can't._ "

Gamora grabs the back of one of the pilot seats so hard that it creaks and bends under her strength. "Peter, no," she chokes out into the comms, turning away from the rest of the team. "You _promised_."

" _I know, I know,"_ Peter sighs heavily, coughing again, and this time Gamora can tell he's more hurt then he had initially let on. " _And trust me, I would never break a promise to you...I never, I never wanted to..."_

"Peter, don't do this," she's pleading now, but she doesn't care, doesn't care that the rest of the Guardians can hear her—because they're her family. "Tell us where you are!"

In literal seconds, their entire family is about to be torn apart.

 _0:27_

" _Just promise_ me _something now, okay?"_ Peter says breathlessly, and Gamora squeezes her eyes shut, trying to memorize the sound of his voice.

" _Promise me that you guys will stick together, okay—and take care of each other,"_ he pauses, clearing his throat, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Gamora could scream.

"Damn it Quill, come on!" Rocket protests in anger, still tapping furiously at the controls as if he can override Peter's disabling of his locator, but they all know it's no use. "Where are you?! There's still time!"

" _We're uh,_ " Peter continues shakily, ignoring Rocket this time, " _we're a family now, ya know?_

"We will _always_ be a family," Drax agrees solemnly, because that's been true for all of them. This found family of theirs is more important to them all than anything else.

And losing any member of their family will destroy them.

 _0:12_

Peter sighs again, audibly sniffing over the comms. " _And families stick together, even when times get tough...even if I'm..."_

He trails off, unable to say the words, and Mantis bursts into tears. She and Groot hug each other tightly as Drax tries to silently console them, closing his eyes in pain.

"I'll just find you myself!" Rocket growls over the comms, cutting Peter off, because he can't handle him trying to say good-bye, still refuses to just give up. He jumps back in the pilot's seat, thrusting the _Benatar_ upwards violently enough that they all stumble, as he uses the new scanning system to try and find Peter's location in the crumbling building.

"Peter," Gamora tries again, because she can't accept this, she _won't_. A tear rolls silently down her cheek, but she doesn't even bother to brush it away. "Peter...we can't lose you... _I_ can't..."

"' _Mora,"_ Peter replies softly, his voice tinged with sadness and guilt, " _you know, you know_ _that you're—you're the best thing that ever could've happened to me."_

He pauses, his voice quiet but full of conviction. " _And even if I knew this is how I'd end up...I don't regret a thing."_

Gamora feels like her heart is physically shattering, and she tries to choke back a sob, but she knows that Peter hears her anyway.

After all they've been through, everything they've already faced and overcome...she's still going to lose him.

"Come on Quill!" Rocket demands again, a desperate edge to his voice now, even though he knows Peter won't tell them. He's still using the ship's scanners to search the building, but to no avail. "Ah hell, there's too much freakin' smoke, I can't get a read on anything down there! Quill just tell us _where you are_!"

Peter is quiet for a long second before he replies. " _I'm sorry."_

Gamora sags against the seat at his words, knees nearly buckling under her weight. "Peter... _please_..."

Peter chokes out what might be a sob or a cough over the comms in response. " _Gamora, you know how much I love..._ "

 _0:00_

" _Peter!"_

The rest of the explosions all detonate simultaneously, as originally planned, rocking the _Benatar_ because of their proximity to the building, but Rocket is already pulling them rapidly further into the air with a grim look on his face, holding the controls in a death grip.

The Guardians can only watch through the window in abject horror as the building completely goes up in a fiery ball, collapsing in on itself in a smoldering mess of fire and smoke...taking Peter with it.

* * *

The next moments that go by are a blur, and Gamora feels completely disconnected, almost as if she's underwater, because everything is muffled and far away. Distantly, she wonders if she's drowning.

She thinks she hears someone screaming, somewhere in the distance, until slowly she realizes that the anguished sound is coming from _her_.

"Peter!"

It doesn't seem real. Only minutes ago she was with him, running side-by-side through the building, and now she's staring down at complete destruction that has taken away the first person she has ever really been sure that she loved.

This can't be _real_.

"Damn it Quill!" Rocket yells out angrily, but tears are running down his face, visibly soaking his fur. He punches one of the control panels by the pilot's seat as he hovers the _Benatar_ just high enough to be safe from the flames. "D'ast idiot, if he would have just told me his freakin' location, then we could have—then he wouldn't...he wouldn't be..." He can't continue, trailing off somewhere between a sob and a growl.

"There wasn't anything we could do," Mantis sniffles between sobs, leaning heavily against Drax's shoulder as he rubs her back slowly in a semblance of comfort. "There was not enough time."

"Quill made a foolish, but brave choice," Drax says heavily, tears in his eyes that he hasn't let fall. "He didn't want us to die trying to save him."

"I am Groot," Groot buries his face in his wooden hands, slumped over against the table, his voice muffled. "I am _Groot_."

Gamora can't say anything, doesn't even know how to form words, numb with shock and grief and anger and confusion.

 _This can't be happening._

The other Guardians slowly turn to look at her, clearly concerned, but she is barely aware that they are even there. She stumbles forward as she finally lets go of the seat, nearly hitting the floor. Drax hurriedly reaches out to steady her, but she pulls sharply away from his grasp, breaths coming out in short, pained gasps.

She. Can't. Breathe.

"I shouldn't have," she chokes out, and she might be crying now, she isn't really sure, "I shouldn't have left him...how could I... _Peter_...I _left_ him in there..."

"That was not your fault," Drax tries reassure her gently. "Quill made his choice, and you had to save the children."

"That is what he wanted, Gamora," Mantis adds shakily, tears streaming down her face. "Please do not blame yourself."

"No, Peter..." Gamora shakes her head, closing her eyes as she tries to breathe, because she can't do this, she _can't_. She doesn't think she's ever felt this much pain in her entire life, and that's after years under Thanos. Nothing they say can make her feel any better, because she left Peter in there, regardless of the reasons why, and now he's d...

" _-ello? Guys? Y— there?"_

The Guardians all freeze in complete shock at the distant, staticky voice suddenly echoing in their ears, the signal coming in and out. They just stare at each other, confusion and disbelief replacing the grief on ther faces, unsure if they are just hearing things, because this shouldn't be possible...until they hear it again.

" _Hello? A—body?"_

Rocket is the first to respond, voice full of incredulity and disbelief. "...Quill?!"

Gamora collapses to her knees at the sound of his voice, clutching to desperate hope, afraid to believe that it's even possible, that it's really him, that he's really alive after just drowning in certain grief only moments ago.

"But how?" Drax breathes in disbelief, as Mantis and Groot both come to stand by his side, eyes wide with shock and hope.

They all pause again, waiting with baited breath, afraid to hope against all hope that Peter somehow survived. There's static again, before Peter's voice unmistakably breaks through the broken signal. " _Open — —door!"_

Rocket's eyes widen in sudden realization, swearing under his breath, and he quickly hits some buttons on the control panel, opening the port side cargo door of the ship.

Gamora doesn't even know when she got back to her feet, and she's barely aware that she's running now, her body completely on autopilot. She's running past the seats, past the rest of her team, and through the main hold of the ship until she reaches the ramp to the cargo door. The others might be behind her, but she doesn't know or care, all she knows is that she has to get to Peter.

The door is just starting to close when she reaches the loading ramp, and there, covered in soot and grime and hunched over on his hands and knees, breathing heavily, is Peter.

Gamora's heart is in her throat, and she can't find any words, just rushing forwards and collapsing next to him hard on her knees.

Peter reaches up a shaking, dirt covered hand to release his helmet, and it retracts instantly. He starts coughing violently the minute the mask is gone, because with the amount of smoke and fire he was just in, even his mask can only do so much. The only reason he's even alive right now is probably because of the mask, and Gamora has never been more grateful for that thing in her entire life.

Her hands are shaking as she reaches out for him, almost afraid to touch him because she's still afraid that he somehow isn't real. Peter is still coughing, but his watery eyes meet hers as he finally lifts up his head.

"...hi," he manages to croak out as he sucks in a pained breath, and Gamora breaks.

She chokes back her tears and disbelief as she immediately pulls him to her, pulling him upright to his knees and tightly up against her. They collapse in a tangled pile right there on the loading ramp floor, desperately holding on to each other and refusing to let go.

Peter buries his face against her neck, tangling his hands in her hair and cradling the back of her head, still wheezing as he slowly catches his breath. "It's okay...I'm okay," he whispers hoarsely in her ear, feeling her tremble against him. She can't yet respond, just wrapping her arms even more tightly around him, still trying to figure out how he made it out, still not believing that he actually did. "Hey, it's okay, Gamora. It's okay."

Gamora just shakes her head, voice cracking as she finally speaks. "Peter...I thought...we all thought...that you..." She is gripping the back of his ruined leather jacket so hard she can feel the material giving way under her hands. He reeks of smoke and is covered in soot and ash, but Gamora still buries her face into his messy hair, breathing him in as she thanks the universe that he's okay.

"I know," he sighs heavily against her, finally pulling back to look her in the eyes. He reaches up to cup her cheek gently, and she leans heavily into it as he wipes away a tear with the pad of this thumb, accidentally smearing dirt and tears across her face. "I thought so too. I honestly don't even know _how_ I'm here right now."

"I never should have left you," Gamora replies quietly but fiercely, another tear rolling down her cheek as her gaze pierces his own, and Peter's eyes grow visibly wet at the anguish written on her face. "I thought I left you there to _die_."

"Oh God, no, Gamora, you _didn't_ ," he says softly, leaning his forehead heavily against hers. "I asked you to leave, but I didn't know _that_ was gonna happen, but I never would've wanted you to think that...I'm sorry, I'm so _so_ sorry."

She just nods against him, closing her eyes, just trying to take in the fact that somehow he is still alive, and he's still here, and she didn't lose him after all.

"Quill!"

They hear several thundering footsteps and voices drawing closer now, echoing through the ship, and then the rest of their family is surrounding them, staring down at Peter in pure disbelief and happiness.

"Quill, how in the hell did you get out?" Rocket asks in disbelief, waving his paws wildly in the air. "You shouldn't even _be_ here right now!"

"How did you manage to survive?" Drax booms in both surprise and pride, eyes wide.

"I don't really know," Peter shakes his head, giving them all a helpless shrug, looking as surprised as they are that he's alive. "When the final blast went off, all I know is I got thrown backwards, but somehow I ended up outside the compound. I must have been blown through a hole or something as it collapsed. I landed somewhere behind the building...and then I flew up here," he gestures at his rocket boots.

"That doesn't even sound possible," Drax shakes his head in pure wonder. "That is truly a miracle."

Rocket just scoffs, eyes wide in disbelief as he shakes his head. "You are one lucky son of a..."

"I am Groot!" Groot cries out in pure joy, unable to contain it any longer, effectively cutting Rocket off. He rushes forward and then he's wrapping his spindly arms around Peter and Gamora, a far cry from his preteen attitude as of late.

"Hey, bud," Peter smiles warmly back at him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Peter! You really are okay!" Mantis squeals in delight, beaming down at him and Gamora still wrapped around each other on the cargo bay floor, as Groot reluctantly gets up and lets go of his death grip on Peter. Her bright smile falters for a minute as she continues. "We were certain that you were lost."

"Yes," Drax hums in agreement, holding Peter with an intense gaze. "I was sure there was no way you could have survived this."

"And if you," Rocket suddenly growls, pointing a threatening claw in Peter's face, " _ever_ pull a stunt like that on us again, then I swear to you that I'll..."

"I'm sorry, Rocket," Peter smiles tiredly, reaching over and patting him gently on the head, although normally he would lose a finger for it. It's a testament to how grateful Rocket is that he's okay that he actually allows it.

Peter glances up at the rest of them, exhaling heavily with exhaustion. "Look, I'm really sorry that I scared you guys."

"You'd better be," Rocket grumbles under his breath, before finally shaking Peter's hand off, trying and failing to act unaffected. Gamora and Peter share a knowing look.

"I'm glad that you are relatively unharmed, but you should clean yourself up," Drax says then matter-of-factly, reaching down to pull both him and Gamora to their feet. "You are filthy, Quill."

Once he's back on his feet, Drax claps Peter hard on the back in happiness, making him stumble, and Gamora doesn't miss the pained wince on his face as he suddenly clutches his right side.

"You're hurt," she narrows her eyes in concern, frowning as she tries to pull his jacket back and see what he's trying to hide.

"Nah, I'm fine," he protests, trying to push her hands away. He sighs heavily when Gamora levels her gaze at him. "Really, it's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Considering you just literally got blown up and still somehow lived to talk about it," Rocket raises his eyebrows at him, "maybe you should let her check it out."

"It would be wise to seek medical attention after what you just survived," Drax gives him a knowing look. "You should go to the medbay."

"I am Groot!" Groot chimes in, nodding in resolute agreement.

"Yes, you are in pain," Mantis adds, ignoring the look of betrayal that Peter levels at her. "Please let us help you."

"Alright, alright, fine," Peter throws up his hands in surrender, before coughing again, an audible wheeze still present after all the smoke he has just inhaled. Gamora just gives him another no argument look, and he shrugs in defeat. "Okay, okay—you guys win. I'll go."

Despite his continued protests that he's fine, Drax insists on helping Peter down to their small medbay. Gamora follows along closely, keeping a watchful eye on Peter, because she still can't quite comprehend everything.

Peter is alive, and they've been given yet _another_ chance. She doesn't want to question it, because she is beyond grateful to have him back safe and sound, but she can't help but worry in the back of her mind if the worst is still yet to come, and if they have already used up all of their second chances.

She really hopes they don't run into Thanos anytime soon, because she is even less sure about what the outcome of facing him would be.

As long as she can keep her family, and Peter, and the rest of the universe safe from him, she hopes that it doesn't really matter.

* * *

They fall into relative silence as she patches him up. The others had hovered around for a while, still wanting to make sure that Peter was really okay for themselves, before realizing—for once—that the two of them needed a little time alone, leaving Gamora to finish tending to his wounds.

It's a miracle that it isn't worse. Yeah, so he's got some smoke inhalation, definitely some bruised ribs, and a nasty cut on his side from the ceiling collapsing on him...but considering he was quite literally inside a building that exploded...he definitely should be dead right now.

Peter honestly doesn't know how or even why he's still alive, but he's trying not to question it too hard.

It's hardly the first time he's almost died before, especially after holding the Infinity stone, and fighting Ego, and getting shot on Knowhere, and even a few other times besides that. It's hardly the first time he's been _certain_ that he was about to bite it, so to speak.

But it is the first time he'd been able to give a good-bye speech, to the people that he loves, to _Gamora_ , and he isn't sure what to do about that now that he is somehow miraculously still alive.

Gamora has hardly said anything to him since they arrived in the medbay, completely focused on stitching up his wound with the laser skin graft, brows furrowed in concentration. It's long, extending from his ribs to down towards his hipbone, but luckily not too deep. He was still losing a lot of blood, however, and it was imperative that they close the wound sooner than later.

She's still not meeting his eyes, hasn't looked up since she cleaned and disinfected the wound first—and man, did that hurt—before using the laser to close the wound, and only glancing at him briefly before pushing an oxygen mask across his face for a breathing treatment to heal his damaged lungs.

Right now, he's really grateful for the strong pain meds she made him take the minute they got to the medbay, because despite his injuries and near death experience, he's feeling pretty pleasantly disconnected and loopy right about now—although that could be the mild concussion he also has—and he has a lot of things he _really_ wants to say to her.

Of course, the breathing treatment also keeps him from being able to talk, and Peter sort of suspects that she planned it that way.

But he can feel the tension between them still, can see the stress and worry that she thinks she's hiding on her face, and can see the barest trembling still present in her hands as she finishes running the laser over his skin, sealing the wound.

He needs to talk to her, to make sure they're okay, that _she's_ okay, but she quickly scolds him when he tries to remove the oxygen mask.

"No, Peter," she admonishes firmly but gently, "leave it on."

Peter grunts in protest, but drops his hand back down into his lap. He doesn't even know how Gamora saw him trying to take it off, because her back had been to him as she placed the laser back on the table, and he vaguely wonders if she has eyes in the back of her head. Honestly, he'll never stop being awed by her.

She turns back to him, examining his now sealed wound carefully before assessing the rest of him with watchful eyes, looking for any further signs of pain or injury. "There, it's all done."

She purses her lips as she finally meets his eyes. "How do you feel?"

Peter currently feels a lot better, but he's not sure if it's just the meds or her taking care of him or this annoying concussion—or probably a combination of all of them, really—but he doesn't tell her all that. Instead, he just gives her a thumbs up in response, because he doesn't dare take off the mask again without her approval, but he makes sure to give her a cheeky smile through the mask.

Gamora snorts, and she almost rolls her eyes. "Okay, the breathing treatment is done. You can take this off."

"Finally," Peter groans with exaggeration as he pulls the oxygen mask off his face. "I thought I'd never get that thing off." Because really, not being able to talk is a rare form of torture, in his book.

Gamora just eyes him, taking the mask and setting it on the side table as well. He spots his ruined jacket and shirt in the corner of the room and frowns. "Man, I really liked that jacket."

She glances back over her shoulder at him as she starts putting the medical supplies away, before answering simply. "We'll get you a new one."

Peter nods at that, and then makes to hop down off the medical table he's sitting on, before Gamora is suddenly at his side, helping him down as if he's an invalid. She pulls one of his arms over her shoulders to support his weight, despite his protests.

"Gamora, come on, I'm fine," he whines futilely, "you patched me up really good, seriously! I can make it back to our room."

She turns and levels him with a look that makes him swallow down any further complaints as they start slowly walking out of the medbay and back towards their room.

"I mean, as long as you don't _carry_ me there or something, this is fine," he laughs a little nervously, because he wouldn't put it past her, but boy would he never live that down with the rest of the team.

She glances over at him with another look, and Peter can't decide if it's teasing or serious, which slightly terrifies him.

"Okay, okay, I won't push my luck," he says quickly as they continue through the halls of the ship, his arm still around her shoulders and her other arm tightly around his waist for support. "I'm done talking now."

Gamora huffs out a short laugh. "Smart decision," is all she says, and they continue on without talking until they reach their bedroom.

Peter isn't really sure what to say to her right now. He knows they _need_ to talk, because she seems like she's barely keeping her emotions in check, her movements controlled and rigid because they are bubbling just under the surface and she is doing her best to push them back down.

It's only because he knows her as well as he does, loves her as much as he does, that he knows this about her, can tell what she is so desperately trying to hide.

He also knows it won't take much pushing on his part to make her fall apart, to get her to open up to him, but he isn't sure he wants that. He almost died today, and they are both still dealing with everything. He's more shaken up then he'd like to admit, and he's even more grateful for these pain meds for making him feel a little disconnected from everything.

Unfortunately, it likely won't be the last near death experience for either of them, living the lives that they do, but that doesn't mean that today matters any less.

He's still trying to figure out what to say to her or how to say it when she slowly walks him into the private bathroom inside their bedroom—a real luxury they had sprung for when they'd gotten the _Benatar_ —and leans him against the bathroom counter, finally disentangling herself from under his arm.

"You need a shower," she says quietly but matter-of-factly, turning away from him and walking over to turn on the water. The hot water starts cascading out of the shower head, quickly filling the small room with steam.

Peter looks down at himself and grimaces. He does need a shower, that's for sure. The wound on his side is still fresh pink with scar tissue, but it's sealed and surprisingly not hurting all that much anymore, just a little tender. But he's still covered in blood and grime and ash and he really needs to get cleaned up. He looks back over at Gamora, and feels his heart skip a beat with how damn _much_ he loves her, and how grateful he is that she's here right now, taking care of him.

"Hey," he says, studying her carefully as she tests the water temperature. "Thanks."

"For what?" she muses absently as she comes back over to him, a serious but questioning look on her face.

He gestures at himself with a wry look, hoping he can get her to crack a smile, at least. "For this. For patching me up. For just taking care of me, like you always do."

Gamora blinks up at him for a moment, before she nods slowly in response, still not saying anything. She reaches over and gingerly fingers the edge of the scar tissue on his freshly healed wound, as if she still can't believe he's alive.

Peter can't really believe he is, either, but that's besides the point. Everything about his escape is still fuzzy, thanks to the concussion, and he's still not really sure how he made it out of the building during the final explosion, but he'd survived and that's all he can focus on right now.

She's still staring hard at his wound when Peter gently grabs her fingers and pulls them away from his side, lacing their fingers together and giving hers a squeeze.

"Hey, 'Mora, I'm okay," he says quietly, trying to get her to look at him again. "You fixed me up, and I'm fine now. Promise."

Her eyes finally snap up to his at those words, her tone pained. "But you almost weren't, Peter."

He manages to look chagrined at the hurt in her voice, because even though he hadn't meant to do it on purpose, he'd hurt her today. "I know, baby...I know. And I'll never be able to say sorry enough times for putting you through that."

And then they're just staring at each other, in the warm silence of their bathroom, and Peter can see the internal conflict raging in her eyes. He opens his mouth to reassure her, to tell her it's okay if she falls apart now—but he never gets the chance.

Gamora suddenly has her hands cupping both sides of his face, pulling him down roughly and kissing him for all she's worth.

Peter groans in surprise into her mouth as she deepens the kiss, her lips devouring his. She's running her hands through his hair and pulling at it, her movements quickly growing more frantic.

In pure instinct, Peter wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her tightly up against him, needing to feel her even closer, desperate to get her as close to him as possible. Gamora gasps into his mouth as she falls against his bare chest, needing him just as much as he needs her.

Their kisses keep growing more frantic, more needy, and all Peter can think about right now is her, surrounding him and taking over every one of his senses, and he's never been more grateful to be alive and to be able to have more of these moments with the woman he loves.

Gamora suddenly breaks the kiss, breathing heavily as she steps back for a moment, but before Peter can even protest her hands are at his belt, frantically undoing it and pulling at the button of his pants. She rips the button off entirely in her haste, and it lands somewhere with a clink on the bathroom floor and rolls away.

Peter doesn't think he's ever been more turned on in his entire life.

And then she's back on him, desperately tearing at his pants and trying to remove them. He grabs for her leather vest and shirt at the same time, and they fall heavily back against the counter as they try to remove each other's clothes in pure desperation, a tangled mess of limbs and flying clothes and frenzied kisses.

The next thing he knows, they're both finally, blissfully naked, and Gamora is dragging him into the shower.

* * *

They're under the hot spray of water now, washing away the dirt and grime and the pain, and Gamora moans loudly as Peter kisses down her neck and nips at her wet skin, breathing heavily against her ear. It only makes her moan his name even louder. " _Peter_."

"Damn, I love when you do that," he mutters against her skin, as his hands come up to find both her breasts, his thumbs expertly flicking across her nipples.

Gamora hisses at his touch, because he knows how much she loves that, is one of her favorite things she'd discovered back when they'd first crossed this line in their relationship.

She also loves what he can do with his mouth, and he is more than happy to demonstrate that for her every time. In fact, she can see that he means to do that now, as he starts to kiss lower and lower down her body, about to get down on his knees, until she stops him.

"Peter," she says raggedly, pleading, as she pulls him back up to her and kisses him hard on the mouth. She pulls back, looking at him through hooded eyes. "I need... _you._ "

"Yeah, oh God, yeah," he nods furiously in agreement, because they both desperately need each other right now, to feel each other, to have reassurance that they are both still alive and still okay.

He moves to grab her long legs and wrap them up around his waist, but he fails to hide a wince when he moves, and Gamora doesn't miss it. He does still have bruised ribs and a concussion after all, even with the pain meds, and although his wound is basically healed, it's still raw and tender at the edges. His injuries are relatively minor considering what he'd been through, but she's not taking any chances.

"Peter...wait," she pants, looking at him carefully, "are you sure you're up for this?"

The look on Peter's face is incredulous. " _Trust me,_ Gamora, I'm up for this."

She smiles at him, at his determined enthusiasm, before holding herself up effortlessly against the wall and wrapping her legs around his waist in one smooth move.

Peter's jaw nearly hits the floor, his eyes widening in a combination of lust and awe. "Jesus Christ, Gamora."

She hums in acknowledgment before grabbing his chin with her free hand and pulling him in for another sloppy kiss, balancing herself easily with her other arm against the corner of the shower. She's strong enough to leverage most of her weight without having to put the strain on Peter's injured ribs.

He grunts as she pulls him in closer with her legs, and he reaches down one hand to line himself up against her. He looks up, face inches from her and full of emotion, and she thanks the universe again that she didn't lose him.

His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks. "I love you so much."

Gamora opens her mouth to tell him how much she loves him too, but she suddenly loses all ability to form words when Peter slides into her in one smooth motion, burying himself inside her to the hilt.

She gasps as his warmth fills her up, letting her head fall back against the wet shower wall as she takes him in. She fills full and tight and complete when she's with him like this, and she trembles at the feeling as he pushes fully inside her.

She clenches down around him and Peter groans loudly, letting his head fall to her shoulder as he tries to regain his composure, visibly shaking with both emotion and trying to keep himself in control. She leans her head heavily against his, before whispering in his ear and rocking her hips forward against his in encouragement, because she needs him so badly that it _hurts_.

Peter gets the hint quickly, and then he's moving against her, thrusting slowly a few times to make sure she's ready to take him, because he would never want to hurt her—even if she's technically the stronger one. But she needs more, more of him, and she nips at his neck, running her nails down his back at the same time to spur him on, and he can't hold back any longer, swearing under his breath as he says her name. "Gamora..."

He quickly picks up his pace, thrusting even faster now, and Gamora is pushing her hips off the wall to meet him, easily matching his rhythm, making sure to support her own weight. Their lips meet again, and their kisses are needy, desperate, their breaths coming in short, heavy gasps.

Peter has one hand under her hip, gently supporting her body even though she doesn't need it, while his other hand moves down and finds her clit, his thumb brushing against it and setting her nerves on fire.

"Peter..." she chokes out at his touch, a prayer, a plea, and he tilts her legs up a little further, his hips rocking even harder against hers. She tightens her legs around his waist, crying out at the sensation as he thrusts again. She tilts her hips up more towards him, and the new angle pushes him inside her even deeper, and Gamora writhes against him, eyes closed in pure bliss.

"God, Gamora," he grounds out, looking at her with satisfaction as she reacts to his touch, "so goddamn... _beautiful_..."

He always makes her feel beautiful, but before him that had never really been something that mattered to her. Now, she can't help but love it when he says it, to actually feel like she's worth the pedastool that he has always put her on, that she's so much more than the monster she'd always been raised to believe she was.

She tightens her grip on him after a particularly deep thrust, eyes rolling in the back of her head at the sensation. He's panting against her as he moves, jaw clenched in determination, doing his best to hold on until she gets there first.

Having sex with Peter has always been amazing, but with them it's always been about so much _more_ than sex. It's been built on years of trust and friendship and love, and with the raw emotions added today, Gamora can already feel herself quickly building towards the edge with each thrust of his hips against hers. She's practically begging him to turn her inside out, because she needs this so badly right now, needs him.

She can tell Peter feels the same way, and he moans deeply against her mouth as his lips find hers again, a deep, guttural sound in his throat. She feels like she can't get enough of him, will never get enough of him. She wraps her free hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in and kissing him even harder, nails digging into the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping into his mouth as he hits home again and again.

Peter finally comes up for air, his forehead pressed against hers, as he slams into her, harder and deeper than before, and she meets him thrust for thrust, rocking her hips hard against him every time he moves. It's raw and rough and exactly what they need right now, what they need to heal.

"Peter," she cries raggedly against him, gasping for air as she gets closer and closer to the edge. "Peter, don't stop...don't..."

He grunts against her, unable to form words for once, just nodding furiously in answer as he adjusts, making his movements even longer and deeper. She cries out as he changes the angle, because he's hitting her just right, and she can feel him _everywhere_.

Gamora opens her eyes, meeting his gaze, gasping out again as he pushes deeper, making her see stars, and her raw emotions finally bubble over. "Don't...ever leave..."

And they both know that there's a different meaning to her words, after the events of today.

 _Don't ever die and leave me all alone._

"Never, Gamora," Peter chokes out hoarsely, breathlessly, still not slowing his movements. He cups her cheek with his free hand and pulls her face against his. "I'll never... _never_ leave you..."

They both know it's a promise that neither of them might be able to keep, but in this moment, it doesn't matter.

Peter thrusts home once again, his lips against her neck, whispering promises and apologies against her damp skin, and she then finally comes apart in his arms, clenching hard around him as she lets go, sobbing out his name. Her whole body shakes against him with the force of it, and she loses herself for a moment as the waves of pleasure crash over her.

He follows right behind her, his hips stuttering against hers as he makes sure that she falls over the edge first, before his head falls against her shoulder as he comes, body shuddering against her with the intensity of it.

They stay like that for a long moment as they slowly come back to their senses, wrapped around each other under the hot spray of water, still joined together. Peter finally picks his head up, still panting heavily.

"Holy..." he trails off, looking at her with an expression of love and amazement. He breaks into a dazed smile. "Wow."

She kisses him gently, and she's smiling now too, before slowly unwrapping her legs from his waist and pulling them apart. He moves to steady her as she puts her feet back on the shower floor, even though she doesn't need his help to balance, but it's the gesture that counts.

She puts her hands on his broad chest and looks up at him, before raising an eyebrow, still smiling. "We should actually shower now."

"Hey, that was my plan all along," Peter laughs, eyes crinkling with amusement, still love drunk. "You're the one who came in here and seduced me."

Gamora pauses, raising both eyebrows at him now, and Peter quickly backtracks. "Not that I'm complaining or anything! I mean, you're welcome to seduce me anytime."

He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she laughs, the first real, genuine laugh she's had since before they went into that God-forsaken building in the first place, and she lightly slaps his chest. "Peter, just get the soap."

"Anything for you," he says lightly, but sincerely, and it makes something in her chest twist. He grabs the soap off the shelf behind him, but when he turns back around Gamora pulls him down for another kiss, but this one is soft, chaste, and full of the things she couldn't say earlier.

Peter reaches up with his free hand to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled in her wet hair, gripping the soap in the other. He looks surprised when she pulls back, and opens his mouth to ask her.

"Gamora, what was..." but she shakes her head to silence him.

"I love you," is all she says, simple but full of meaning. That's all she really needs to say, because they can both feel the weight of her words, of how much she means them.

Peter's expression goes incredibly soft, and he tucks a strand of damp hair behind her ear, holding her gaze steadily as he replies. "I love you too."

And in that moment, that is more than enough.

* * *

When the water is finally cold and they are both finally clean, they stumble back into their bedroom, tired and spent.

Gamora watches Peter carefully as he gets dressed. He puts on a pair of sleep shorts without too much difficulty, but he can't hold back a pained groan when he tries to lift his arms above his head to put on his shirt.

She's at his side in an instant, despite his protests. "Gamora, I can put a shirt on by myself, seriously."

"You're still healing," she admonishes him, snatching the shirt out of his hands before he can even react. "Let me help you so you don't strain yourself."

Peter can't contain the amused expression that crosses his face. "I would say I've already done more strenuous activity than this tonight, wouldn't you?" he gestures with one hand towards the bathroom, the corners of his mouth turned up in a cocky grin.

Gamora supresses a smile, raising her eyebrows at him while still keeping his shirt out of reach. "Well, since I did most of the strenuous activity in there, I think that you're fine."

Peter frowns, putting his hands on his hips and giving her a mock offended look. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly hear any complaints about my participation in there, thank you very much."

"Because there weren't any," she breaks into a smile, eyes shining with laughter as she leans up to kiss the corner of his mouth, effectively silencing him. "Now let me help you with this shirt."

"Fine," Peter pouts, but he's smiling now too, obediently putting his arms out for Gamora to help him into the sleeves without putting them above his head.

After a few moments of uncoordinated wiggling, she has the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering up his healing scar. "There. How do you feel?"

"Like you're gonna be doing all my heavy lifting for the next week," he grins, and Gamora rolls her eyes. "But no, seriously, I'm good. A little sore, but good."

"Good," she echoes, feeling satisfied. Peter is still moving gingerly but all in all seems to be doing fine. She lets out a little sigh of relief, before rifling in the dresser drawer and throwing on a shirt.

She looks back up to see him looking at her approvingly, a wide smile on his face. She furrows her brows at him. "What?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, still smiling as he unabashedly looks her up and down. "You know, I really love when you wear my shirts."

Gamora glances down, not even realizing she had grabbed one of his shirts in the first place. It's clearly oversized on her, just barely hitting her mid-thigh.

She can see the heat quickly building in Peter's eyes again at the sight of her in his shirt, and she shakes her head with an amused look. Normally, she'd be all for another romp with him, but he needs to heal. "Don't get any ideas. You need to rest."

He mutters something in protest under his breath but he doesn't argue when she grabs his hand and pulls him over to their bed, already knowing it would be a losing battle.

Peter lays down on his back, and she climbs in beside him, curling into his side carefully and laying her head on his shoulder, her arm thrown over his waist. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against him.

Gamora burrows her head against his chest, eyes closed, as she just tries to take in the moment. She could have just as easily been sleeping in an empty bed tonight, and she's well aware of that fact.

Peter must notice her reaction, because he leans down and gently presses a kiss to her forehead. "You okay?"

She opens her eyes and angles her head to look up at him. "I will be."

He nods, giving her a sad smile, because he understands. "You know, I'm really sorry about...today. But no matter what happens, I swear to you that I'll never break another promise to you again."

"I know," she whispers back, giving him a quick squeeze. "I'm just happy that you're here."

"Me too," he sighs, lips brushing her forehead again before he falls back on his pillow. "I don't ever want to be anywhere that you aren't."

Gamora nods against him, swallowing thickly against the tears rising unbidden at his words, and tries to remember to be grateful. They've been given another day, and she _has_ to be grateful for that.

Because one day, the universe might tear them apart...and she's not sure how either of them will survive that.

* * *

 **Well, writing this was a much needed distraction from all the drama happening in our GOTG fandom and the uncertainty of Vol. 3-I hope it helped you too. Please let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey fam! Sorry for the delay. Life, ya know.**

 **Warnings for this chap include lots of references to** _ **those**_ **scenes in Infinity War (are these still spoilers by now?), character death (sobs forever), and just lots of Starmora angst and feels in general.**

 **Extra special thanks to Frida521, Wrighteuse, Aerilon, Katie, and Eevee for your amazing reviews and support! You all deserve your own personal Peter Quill.**

 **Hugs for this chapter..**

* * *

 **Five**

It's the end.

The world is ending. Her _life_ is ending.

Gamora knows now, that it was always going to end up this way, that she was always going to die some awful, meaningless death, even after she left that awful, meaningless life behind her all those years ago.

It feels as though all the good she's tried to do to atone for her sins under Thanos have been largely ignored by the universe, as he drags her toward the cliff, the cold winds of Vormir howling all around them.

It's impossibly unfair that the very person who ruined her life is now the one ending it, while the universe seems to be ignoring all the unforgivable things he's done on his quest for the stones and some warped, misguided sense of duty.

"I'm sorry, little one."

 _Bullshit_ , Gamora thinks, and calls him on it, because this _isn't_ love, but it's not enough. He hurls her off the edge as a sacrifice without a second's hesitation.

Even as she falls, body plummeting down towards the icy depths of this God-forsaken altar, it almost feels as if time has stood still for a moment, her last fleeting thoughts moving in slow motion as the ground rushes up towards her.

It's amazing how slow time seems to move, in the final moments of her life, the memories flashing before her eyes like a movie, a final goodbye, even as she screams out at the monster standing above her, watching her fall.

She's not afraid to die...but not like this. Never like this.

She'd even _tried_ to die two other times today, to insure that she couldn't be used by her abuser to murder trillions of innocents, but Thanos had once again manipulated her—with those damn bubbles—both when she had just tried to take her own life, with _the_ dagger...

...and when she'd asked Peter to.

 _Oh God. Peter._

 _I told you to go right!_

She can still hear his broken voice—see the anguish on his face, his hand trembling as he aims his blaster at her—even as she falls.

Gamora doesn't know how he'll recover from this. He's already lost so much, and when Peter learns of her fate at Thanos' hands, she knows he's going to react _badly_.

And emotionally and impulsively and violently, because that's who Peter is. He has the biggest heart of all of them, the biggest heart she's ever known, and she fiercely loves him for it...but he's also more likely to think with his heart over his head, especially when it comes to the team, to the people he loves.

To _her_.

Which she's already known, has seen all of the other times he's tried to sacrifice himself to protect her, and the other Guardians, and often innocent people they've been trying to save. Peter reacts first and thinks later when the people he loves are in danger, not even caring if it costs him his own life, so long as everyone else is safe.

So she knows, she _knows_ that when Peter learns that Thanos killed her to further his twisted cause of saving the universe...he's going to be completely broken.

And, without doubt...he's going to come after Thanos for it.

Gamora just hopes with her last few breaths that he doesn't get himself killed in the process, because she knows that Thanos won't show him any mercy when he does. He'd already made that abundantly clear earlier when they had reached _Sanctuary II,_ casually mentioning what would happen to the Guardians if they tried to rescue her, right before he'd wandered away to find her something to eat and leaving her alone in the cold, desolate throne room with her thoughts.

 _You know, daughter, if they come for you—if_ he _comes for you—I won't hesitate. I won't let anything stop me, not now._

Gamora hadn't dignified him with an answer, just glaring up at him with her fists clenched tightly at her sides, trying to hide her fear at his words, as if she could somehow protect how much the Guardians, and how much Peter, meant to her.

But Thanos already knew, of course he did, and he had just shook his head, chuckling somewhere between amusement and disappointment.

 _I thought I taught you better than that. Attachment means weakness, little one. The only family you ever needed was right here, but you've been blind to it._

Gamora couldn't hold her tongue at that, and she'd taken a step towards him as she responded with the most forceful tone she could muster.

 _No, the only one who's been blind is_ you _._

Thanos had smiled at her then, but it wasn't kind.

 _Let's hope the boyfriend doesn't find you, then. He might turn out to be useful._

And then he'd marched away, and Gamora had recognized the thinly veiled threat for what it was.

If Peter came for her—Thanos would use him against her, in order to gain her cooperation— by whatever means necessary.

Honestly, she'd been shocked he hadn't killed Peter right in front of her on Knowhere, especially after he'd incapacitated Drax and Mantis.

She'd later realized that Thanos had _allowed_ Peter to live, to put her and him through the painful torture of them saying their final goodbyes—and for Peter to have to make the awful, final choice of pulling the trigger, in order to fulfill her wish.

It was Thanos' sick, twisted way of teaching her a lesson—attachment means weakness, and you can't love anyone other than _me_ —and to prove that even her and Peter's love was no match for him.

She'd slumped down on the steps of the throne then, feeling completely defeated, knowing all she could do was wait, and hope an opportunity to escape...or to try to kill Thanos again...presented itself.

As it turned out, Thanos used Nebula against her instead, not Peter, but he'd known that using someone she loved against her would be the only way to make her break.

She hated that he knew her so well, that everything she hated about herself was because of him.

Now, as she's plummeting the final few feet towards certain death, she wonders if it would have made a difference.

If she had gone _right_ , like Peter had told her to do.

It seems futile, now, to wonder about the what-could-have-beens, but she can't help but think back to that pivotal moment, if anything could have been changed, if following Peter's order would have made a difference.

Probably not, but it's the last few pieces of guilt she holds onto as she meets her fate.

In the end, she doesn't regret anything about finally leaving Thanos, and finding a new family with the Guardians, and about finally finding a love she didn't ever think she could have—with Peter.

Gamora thinks of all of them now, the last images she'll ever see flashing before her eyes.

She thinks of Mantis, with her kind, awkward smile, and how she has become such an integral part of their makeshift family over the years.

She thinks of Groot, who they've basically raised since he regenerated as a baby sapling, and how even though he's now a sassy, indifferent teenager, there's still a heart of gold hidden underneath.

She thinks of Drax, and how he's managed to take the pain of everything he's lost and channel it into a purpose, and how he loves the rest of the Guardians like his own family that he'd once had, and how he's _finally_ managed to figure out some of the metaphors that Peter and Rocket constantly use.

Rocket. Besides Peter, he might be the most emotionally-driven one of them all, but he hides it behind anger and sarcasm and deflection, afraid to be too vulnerable, although it's obvious how much he deeply, truly cares, in the way he fights for his team, for his _family_.

She thinks of Nebula, of how they've slowly repaired their relationship over the years, trying to undo the damage Thanos had done to them both. She can truly consider her a sister now, and she knows that Nebula loves her, even if she can't show it the same way that she does—and had just shown, when she had spared her life in order to give Thanos the location of the Soul Stone.

And Peter. The person she loves more than anything, the person who taught her what love really was and that she was deserving of it, and what it meant to love someone wholly and unselfishly, to find someone to accept you for everything you are _and_ aren't.

No, in the end, Gamora doesn't have any regrets about her choice to be with the Guardians, to leave Thanos behind...except for him coming after them, too.

If they can somehow manage to stay safe from his reach, then she might be able to die in peace.

But she knows that isn't what is going to happen...and she regrets that with every fiber of her being, of being just another pawn in Thanos's quest to end innocent lives, and quite possibly the lives of the people she loves.

Peter's face is the last thing she sees as she hits the ground.

The world goes dark.

* * *

 _Did we just lose?_

Peter doesn't think he's ever felt this much pain in his entire life, and it has nothing to do with his busted ribs and twisted knee as he limps across the ruins of Titan, Mantis supporting his weight and slinging one of his arms over her shoulders.

Gamora is d—

No, he can't go there. Not now. He's barely keeping it together as it is. Peter distantly questions if Mantis is somehow having a calming effect on him without him knowing it, but he doesn't have the heart to find out, or to stop her, for that matter. He doesn't need to lash out again.

He's already reacted once, and it hadn't ended well. It might have cost them the fight against that _monster_ , but he can't really find it in himself to care.

Because when he finds that bastard again, he's going to make sure he finishes the job...

He hopes.

Right now, he's feeling pretty hopeless.

Honestly, he feels like all the fight has been taken out of him, numb with disbelief and grief. The others gather around slowly, including Stark and the Spider kid, looking similarly lost and defeated. No one blames him, fortunately, for the fiasco during the face-off with Thanos and the removal of the gauntlet. Stark almost seemed to _understand_ his reaction, in a way, even when he'd tried to talk him down in the moment, and Peter vaguely wonders if he's also lost someone he loved.

They might have lost the fight in the end, anyways, no matter what they did—didn't that wizard dude see the future outcomes or something?—and Peter doesn't know if losing his cool and punching Thanos in his smug purple face really mattered in the end, or not.

Nothing else had mattered in that moment, except for Gamora...

 _Oh God_.

He stumbles, more from emotional pain than physical, feeling like he's drowning. He can barely breathe, sucking in deep, desperate breaths against his broken ribs, and he really wishes he were dead, too, so he wouldn't have to know the pain of a world without Gamora in it.

Turns out a few minutes later...he gets his wish.

It starts with Mantis first, tensing under his arm, looking around frantically for something that can't be seen.

"Something's happening."

And then she's gone, quite literally vanishing out from under his grasp, disintegrating into the air around them.

He's so shocked, so completely unprepared for that to happen, that he just gapes in disbelief, eyes wide with shock and horror.

He wheels around to look at Drax, desperate for someone to tell him this is a hoax, that this really isn't happening, that they aren't losing someone else, that Thanos didn't really win...only to notice that Drax is quite literally disappearing before his eyes.

"Quill?" Drax calls out his name in fear and confusion as he melts into dust, and Peter can't do anything but watch him fade away into nothing.

He turns back towards Stark and the kid, Nebula and the wizard somewhere in the distance, his heart shattering into a million more pieces as he loses the rest of his family. He didn't know it was possible to feel anymore pain than he was already feeling...

...but that feeling is quickly followed by a semblance of both regret and relief as he realizes what's happening.

 _He's next._

Peter can feel a strange sensation washing over him, almost as if his entire body has fallen asleep, tiny pinpricks racing all over his skin. Turns out, dying doesn't hurt as much as he always thought it would. All of the times he's almost died before have hurt a _lot_ worse than this.

"Steady, Quill," Stark tells him, somewhere between a demand and a plea, but Peter can't fight it, couldn't even if he tried.

He can't help but think that maybe he deserves this, that maybe this was going to be the final outcome after all, no matter what they did...but he can't help regret not being able to stop Thanos, to make him pay for what he's done.

But he thinks, maybe it's better this way, because he doesn't think he could live with this amount of pain, without the Guardians.

Without Gamora.

"Oh man," he whispers, looking back at Stark.

And then he fades away.

* * *

Gamora doesn't know how long she's been here. Time doesn't really have meaning, wherever she is, whatever this strange plane of existence is that the Soul Stone has banished her to as its sacrifice.

She wanders around, aimlessly, the endless orange surrounding her at all angles, nothing and no one to be found, just a never ending haze all around.

It's impossibly lonely here, and Gamora has resigned herself to realizing that she may be spending the rest of eternity trapped here, nothing more than a forgotten sacrifice against the fate of the universe.

She just hopes Peter and the others are safe, wherever they are.

That hope is short-lived, however, when she feels the universe die.

Feels, rather than sees, although she feels it so strongly it's almost as if she's there. It must be through her connection to Thanos through the stone that she _feels_ the moment he snaps his fingers, and she collapses to the ground, covered with water that never quite gets wet.

She feels the universe dying, all the souls simply disappearing from existence, simply because Thanos willed it to be so. She screams, and screams, eyes closed and tears streaming down her face, but no one can hear her here, not even an echo.

With every fiber of her body-or soul, whatever she is now-she tries to fight against it, to will away Thanos' use of the stone...but nothing happens.

This is a fate worse than death.

And amidst all the chaos, worst of all...she feels when they die.

When _Peter_ dies.

No one is spared, except for Rocket and Nebula, and Gamora howls and sobs and finally collapses in on herself, because they are all _gone_.

Part of her selfishly hopes that maybe they'll end up here, and she'll somehow see them again, but she quickly chases that thought away, because she wouldn't wish this fate on anyone.

Any final hope she'd somehow foolishly held onto fades away with the people she loves.

Peter. Peter. _Peter_.

She had at least had something to hope for, when he was still alive, that maybe he and the others along with the team on Earth that Thor had told them about, would be able to stop Thanos and save the universe, and survive all this.

At least then she could spend eternity here without feeling it was all in vain.

Now all that hope is painfully, crushingly gone, and she wishes more than anything she could die for real, because the thought of spending the rest of time here, knowing what Thanos had cost all of them, is more than she can bear.

Thanos attempts to communicate with her once, after. Tries to communicate with her through the Soul Stone after he's completed his mission of killing half the universe.

After killing most of the only real family she's ever known, regardless of what he thinks otherwise.

After killing the man she loves.

So she does what she can to hurt him most—as it turns out, she has some interesting powers inside this realm—presenting herself to him as a child, knowing it would gut him the most.

 _What did it cost?_

Thanos may think it cost him everything, but Gamora doesn't care. He doesn't know the meaning of love, even as enlightened and all-knowing as he pretends to be.

It doesn't matter now. She turns away from him, cutting him off and forcing him to leave, and she's alone again, for the rest of eternity.

Each aimless step she takes across the smooth, reflective surface of this place is painful. She's done wishing, done hoping that there's a way out of here, that Thanos can be defeated. She finally stops and curls up in a ball on the ground, burying her face in her hands and wishing she could just cease to exist like the rest of the universe.

The only tiny hope she has left is the hope that for wherever Peter and the others are now, hopefully they are at peace.

She's so lost in despair that she doesn't realize when he approaches, doesn't realize she isn't alone anymore until he says her name.

"...Gamora."

She's on her feet in an instant, heart pounding as she unsteadily regains her balance, blinking in disbelief at the person standing before her.

It isn't _possible_ , there's no way he's here right now, she must be finally losing her mind...

Until he speaks again.

"Gamora, it's okay," Peter says gently, taking a step towards her, voice soothing and quiet like it always was when she was coming out of a flashback or nightmare, knowing better than to move too quickly when she was in that state of mind. "It's okay, it's okay. It's me."

She can tell how badly he wants to run to her, his body shaking slightly as he restrains himself, eyes shining with tears and disbelief as he looks at her.

Gamora hesitates, still just gaping at him, every muscle in her body tensed for a fight, for it to be some kind of a trick...before she realizes it really is _him_.

He looks exactly the same as he did the last time she saw him, on Knowhere, still in his leather jacket with blasters on each hip, his curls a tousled mess. But he looks older somehow, as if he's been through hell and back, and Gamora is certain that he has. She also certain that she doesn't look any better, after everything they've been through.

But none of that matters right now.

Because somehow, Peter is _here_.

"...Peter?"

Gamora doesn't hesitate any longer, throwing herself into his arms and squeezing him tight, never wanting to let him go again. Peter wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her hard against his chest and burying his face into her hair.

"Oh God, Gamora, I thought...I wasn't, I wasn't sure, if this would work...but you're actually _here_ ," Peter rambles in her ear, a nonsensical mess as he holds her in his arms once again.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Gamora rasps against his neck, feeling as though all the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She doesn't know how or why or what is happening right now, but Peter is here with her, and she's never been more grateful in her entire life—or afterlife—to see him.

They're both sobbing now, holding each other and refusing to let go, shaking with disbelief and confusion and pure elation that they've somehow found each other, here in this strange unending purgatory.

Gamora finally pulls back, and Peter lands breathless kisses on her lips, which she eagerly returns.

"Jesus, Gamora, I thought I'd lost you," he chokes desperately between kisses, voice full of relief and anguish. "I thought I'd lost you, and I couldn't, I just couldn't..." he can't finish, choking back a sob.

"Peter, I'm here, I'm right here," she finally manages to gasp, pulling away from his lips for a shaky breath to try and reassure him, both of them, that this is real. "But how? How are _you_ here?"

Peter smiles at her through his tears, shrugging and giving her a long, unreadable look. "I couldn't let you go."

"But I don't understand, you shouldn't be here. Not _here_ ," Gamora sniffs, shaking her head at his words, arms still wrapped around each other. "You, and Drax, and Mantis, Groot..." she trails off, averting her gaze. "I felt it when you..."

She can't finish that thought, because it's too painful, and it's all she's been able to feel in the weeks or months or however long she's been trapped here—the deaths of the people she loves most, along with half the universe.

"Oh God, you felt that?" Peter murmurs in horror, tucking a stand of dark hair tenderly behind her ear as she desperately fights back more tears. "I'm sorry Gamora, I'm so _so_ sorry. I should've been able to stop him, or damn it, at least find you. He shouldn't have been the one who..."

Peter can't finish, but they both know he's referring to his promise to kill her, and how he wasn't able to fulfill her wish, even though he'd _tried_.

Thanos had taken even that choice from them.

Gamora reaches up, cupping his cheek gently and tilting his chin to look at her. "No, Peter, don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. None of that was your fault."

Peter scoffs, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, well, maybe that part wasn't."

She raises her eyebrows in question and confusion as she tries to figure out what he means, but he just shakes his head, squeezing one of her hands tightly now, pale fingers laced with green ones, his other hand clenched tightly in a fist by his side.

"Doesn't matter. I'm making everything right now," he continues, his tone suddenly resolute and tears gone.

Gamora frowns, not wanting him to blame himself, because he didn't do anything wrong. He's human, after all, and she loves that most about him. "No, Peter. I should have listened to you, on Knowhere. I should have gone right, like you asked. I'm sorry, I am so sorry that I didn't wait. The blame is on me."

Peter quirks a smile, but it's somewhere in between sad and apologetic, and Gamora furrows her brows, wondering what he knows that she doesn't.

"No, the only blame is on Thanos," he sighs tiredly, his shoulders weighed down with everything they've been through. "But, actually...I have one last thing I need you to do."

Gamora swallows thickly, searching his eyes and trying to read what's there, something like fear quickly growing, gnawing its way up from the pit of her stomach, because she realizes Peter is about to do something—and she doesn't know what it is. "Peter...what is it?"

"I love you," he says softly, avoiding her question, looking at her like she's his entire universe, like he's memorizing her face, and her heart clenches.

"Peter, I love you too," she responds, giving him a questioning look now, because this sounds suspiciously like a goodbye. "But what are you..."

He steps away from her suddenly, dropping her hand and moving out of her reach.

Before Gamora can even step towards him, even ask him again what he means, Peter finally opens his other hand, revealing the ethereal orange glow of the Soul Stone clutched in his palm.

He gives her one last look, filled with love and regret and sorrow and relief.

"You have to go back."

Peter snaps his fingers.

* * *

Gamora wakes.

* * *

 **Peter Quill did nothing wrong in IW, he is only human and perfectly flawed and ANYONE facing the monster who killed the person they loved would have reacted the SAME damn way.**

 **Um, thank you for coming to my TED talk.**

 **Feedback is loved.**

 **Thanks for reading! Only one more to go...**


	6. Chapter 6

**You. Guyssss. I'm completely overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter, thank youuuu! And wow, this final chap was a beast to write. Hope it's worth the long wait!**

 **Special thanks to A, Astronema2345, Katie, Guest, Aerilon, The brunette with long hair, Kael, Supergeek1810, holycactus, and Frida521 for your reviews last chap! Definitely inspired me to finish this thing!**

 **Possible speculation for Avengers 4, so spoilers kinda?**

 **Also, I know the 5 stages of grief don't work** _ **exactly**_ **like this, it more gave me a framework to write something this emotionally taxing.**

 **Yeah, better buckle yourselves in for this one...it's gonna be a ride.**

 **Thanks for taking this fanfic journey with me.**

* * *

 **+One**

" _You have to go back."_

* * *

Gamora comes to with a sharp, gasping breath, as though she's been underwater for a prolonged period of time, holding her breath until her lungs are about to burst.

But she doesn't know what's happening to her right now, her mind a muddled confusion of _how_ and _what_ , her body refusing to move or follow any of her commands to fight or flee whatever unknown enemy is attacking her, her vision blurry and unfocused as she tries to make sense of what's happening.

The world swims dangerously above her, a blinding spin of bright lights and swirling colors, and she closes her eyes again, trying to just focus on pulling air desperately into her sore lungs.

Gamora doesn't think she's ever been this cold.

She can't move, can't react, can't breathe...but she can hear panicked, shocked voices echoing all around her, hurried footsteps coming closer.

The voices are familiar, and give her a distant feeling of safety and relief, although she can't exactly place why.

"Is that _her_?!"

"Gamora!"

"She's...she's _alive_."

"What?! No way, no freakin' way! How in the flarkin' hell...?"

"But _how_ can this be? We know what Thanos did."

"This is truly a miracle!"

"How is she here right now? This doesn't make any sense!"

"I am Groot!"

" _Think_ , you idiots. We all know who is responsible for bringing her...back."

"Oh God... _oh God_. Quill, that sonofabitch. He did it. He actually _did_ it."

"Oh—oh _no_."

"If Quill brought her back, does that mean..."

"I am Groot?"

"Yeah, yeah he did—damn it, _damn it_ , Quill, _no_ —there must have been another way!"

"There wasn't. Only him...for her."

"But how... _how_ will we tell her this?"

Everything goes black once again.

* * *

When Gamora finally comes to again, she's slightly more coherent.

Namely of the fact that she is somehow alive.

As her eyes slowly flutter open, she gradually becomes more aware of that fact, the never ending orange haze that had been her only view for what truly seems like forever now gone, replaced by the sterile, stark white of what must be a hospital room.

She blinks blearily as she tries to take in her surroundings, her vision finally coming into focus.

She can clearly see the rest of the Guardians sprawled across her hospital room in various awkward positions, sound asleep, looking haggard and exhausted in a way she hasn't seen them in a long time.

Frowning, her heart skips a beat when she suddenly realizes that they are one person short, glaringly absent from the impromptu slumber party vigil at her bedside.

 _Peter_.

Her heart rate speeds up dramatically as she starts to panic, fleeting memories from before coming back to her in a jumbled haze, almost like a dream.

 _I have one last thing I need you to do._

 _I love you._

 _You have to go back._

Gamora gasps in horror at that last memory, as images of Peter holding the Soul Stone, a tearful goodbye etched across his face as he snaps his fingers, flash through her mind.

 _You have to go back._

 _No no no no..._

Her panicked gasp draws the attention of the team, rousing them all simultaneously from their restless sleep. Groot reaches her first, untangling himself from between Rocket and Drax in an instant.

"I am Groot!" he exclaims, all signs of the indifferent teenager now gone as he rushes to her bedside, eyes tearful and face hopeful as she unsteadily meets his gaze.

"Groot," Gamora rasps, shocked to hear how rough and hoarse her voice sounds, her throat painfully dry from disuse. "Where is..."

"Gamora?" Rocket interrupts hesitantly, sounding the most cautious she's ever heard him, as he gingerly hops onto the foot of her bed by her feet so that he can really _look_ at her. He seems completely shell shocked as he takes her in, his fur a rumpled mess, and Gamora vaguely wonders what all happened while she was gone. It must have been worse than she thought.

After all, Rocket was the only initial survivor, from what she had felt inside the stone—although the others all look alive and well now—and it must have been hell. Things must have been unbearably rough for him while they were all...gone.

"Gamora! You are awake," Drax says as he and Mantis come stand on the other side of her bed, his voice unusually quiet and gentle for once.

Mantis doesn't say anything at first, her eyes shining with tears as she smiles sadly down at Gamora, both relief and sadness evident in her eyes.

"Hi," she coughs again, clearing her throat roughly, blinking back her own tears as she takes in her family. She has never been more happy to see them in her entire life...except for one glaring problem.

Peter isn't there.

She opens her mouth to ask again, but is abruptly cut off by Mantis, finally finding the words to speak.

"Gamora, are you alright?" she asks in disbelief and concern, staring at her as if she is afraid she'll simply disappear again. To be honest, Gamora isn't so certain that it won't happen herself. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know," she shakes her head, looking at them all hopelessly. "I don't know what's happening...how am I back?"

"Ah, hell, we _don't_ know, exactly" Rocket runs his paws roughly over the fur on his face, sending the already matted hairs in every direction. "You shouldn't even be here right now, and to be honest, we didn't even think we could get you back."

"I am Groot," Groot adds softly, one of his branches extending slightly to squeeze one of her hands before hesitantly letting go, his bark rough against her skin, but she treasures it, of being able to feel _anything_ again.

"This is truly beyond the realm of possibility," Drax murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief and wonder, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder gently. His hand lingers for a moment, as if trying to decide if she is really real, but for once, Gamora doesn't mind. Having them touch her is making her feel grounded, feel real, feel _alive_ once again.

But she still has one really important question that needs answering, and blurts it out urgently before the Guardians can cut her off again.

"Where's Peter?"

The room falls deathly silent—which never happens with them—and Gamora's panic doubles.

 _No no no nononono..._

Rocket's shoulders slump, and he breaks his gaze, staring at her feet under the pristine white covers.

Groot hangs his head, burying his face in his wooden hands.

Mantis starts crying, leaning her head heavily on Drax's shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her, giving her a tight squeeze. He sighs heavily, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to answer her question, and failing.

But Gamora knows, she already _knows_ , and suddenly she can't breathe.

 _No. This isn't happening._

She knows that it is, but she refuses to believe it.

Her panic quickly escalates into anger, an old protective reaction from her years under Thanos.

"Look at me! Where is Peter?" she shouts at them, sitting up abruptly in the bed although her body is protesting every quick move, shaking off Drax and Groot's attempts to push her back down against the pillows. The monitors are going crazy with her spiking heart rate now, the loud beeping sounding like a bomb ready to explode.

The Guardians all visibly cringe at her outburst, at the crazed look on her face, but she doesn't care. She needs an answer, _now_.

"Damn it, answer me! _Where_ is he?!"

They all look at each other, daring each other to speak, and just as she is about to climb out of the bed and find Peter herself, Rocket finally answers.

"Okay, okay, hold on," he holds up his paws in a placating gesture, seeing her about to bolt and leave. "We'll tell you everything, I swear, you uh, you just need to stay in bed, okay? We still don't know how...how you're actually alive, and we can't lose...we can't lose you again _."_

The brokenness, the brutal honestly of his words, cause Gamora to fall back against the pillows in surprise, swallowing hard as she forcefully pushes back her tears.

Maybe Peter was fine. He had been there, in the Soul Stone realm with her, she was sure of it, although it still felt distant and unreal.

And if she was somehow okay, and back from there in relatively one piece, then Peter should be too. He was probably just in his own hospital room, recovering from everything they had been through. She has to believe that.

Anything other than that...she can't even _think_ about it.

"Then answer me," she replies, now sounding broken and afraid, painfully like the small girl that Thanos had once taken under his wing. "Just tell me where Peter is. _Please_."

"Quill, uh," Rocket tries again, looking completely lost, finally meeting her gaze again. "He...ah, hell..."

"I am Groot," Groot encourages him gently, voice timid in a way he rarely is now.

"I know, I know," Rocket sighs in frustration at himself. He finally looks back up at Gamora, squaring his shoulders to tell her, and she holds her breath. "Quill...made a trade."

Gamora blinks at him in confusion, choosing to ignore what she had already learned about the stone the _hard_ way. "...a trade? What kind of a trade?"

"Quill obtained the Soul Stone," Drax finally adds, his voice pained.

Her heart sinks at this, although she already knew he had, had seen it first hand when she had seen him wherever they were held by the stone. She nods in acknowledgement, taking a deep breath to steel herself for whatever came next. "What happened after that?"

"After everything, after we defeated Thanos—he's dead, by the way," Rocket tells her, and Gamora's eyes open wide at that. But she doesn't have time to process that information right now, that the monster that had taken _everything_ from her was finally gone, or how they had managed to reverse the snap and bring half the universe back, because all she can think about right now is Peter. There will be time to process the rest later.

"After the battle, Quill got his hands on the stone, somehow," Rocket continues, sighing heavily. "D'ast bastard, I didn't think he'd be able to figure out how to break into Stark's facility...guess Yondu taught 'im better than we thought."

Gamora doesn't know who Stark is, but she guesses it has something to do with the place she is now in, and she pushes that thought away for later as well.

"Tell me where he is," she's desperate now, gripping the sides of the mattress so hard to ground herself that she is puncturing holes through it as it gives under her strength, even in her weakened state.

"Peter figured it out," Mantis adds, sniffing as she wipes at her tears. "He figured out how to use the Soul Stone."

"He was sure that he could get you back," Drax says softly, "although none of us believed it. He would not give up hope that you could be saved."

"I am Groot," Groot agrees quietly, shaking his head in apology at Gamora, but she doesn't blame them. She wouldn't have believed she could be saved, either, still doesn't believe it really.

"Where is Peter now?" she forces herself to ask again, and she thinks her heart might literally leap out of her chest, her body mods whirring at warp speed as her vitals spike.

There's another long silence as the Guardians look at each other in indecision, before Rocket sighs heavily again, and there's tears in his eyes when he looks back at Gamora.

Her heart nearly stops because Rocket never openly cries in front of the team, unless somebody di—

She draws in a shuddering breath to steady herself.

"Quill used the Soul Stone to get you back, and to do that, he had to make a trade," Rocket's voice is heavy, quiet. "Him...for you."

His words feel like a hammer, a final blow to any desperate, childish hope that Gamora had left, and she clenches her jaw, shaking her head as her hands rip palm sized holes in the mattress.

"No," she shoots back vehemently, looking at all of the Guardians with fire in her eyes behind barely contained tears.

She knew, she _knew_ Peter had done that, but it was another thing to actually hear it was true.

"I'm sorry," Drax says mournfully, because he knows something about losing the person you loved most—they all did, really—but she doesn't want to hear it.

Because Peter isn't gone. He _isn't_.

"No, he's fine," she snaps, sitting up rigidly in the bed again. "If I'm here again, then so is he."

"Gamora, he took your place," Mantis says gently, tears still rolling down her face. She hesitantly reaches for Gamora's hand as if to comfort her and try and ease her pain, but Gamora quickly snatches her hand away from her reach. "The stone has a price..."

Gamora is well aware of that, but she refuses to believe that the price could be her being alive again, at the cost of the person she loves most.

"I am Groot," Groot adds, shoulders slumping, because no, they can't really believe Peter did what he did.

And yet, it's completely like Peter to do something like this, to be irrational and brave and foolish and self-sacrificing—to do anything it took to save the woman he loved, no matter what the consequences.

The room is starting to spin again, and Gamora is finding it harder and harder to breathe, and she clings to her last, irrational, dying hope, that Peter somehow made it out of the Soul Stone too.

"No, no he didn't," Gamora ignores how her voice is wavering now, looking desperately at the rest of her team, her _family_ , hoping for the one answer that they just can't give her. "Peter is okay, I saw _him_ , and he—he brought me back...so just tell me _where he is!"_

Rocket sighs, and Mantis chokes back another sob at her outright refusal to believe them, looking at each other hopelessly. They can't give her the answer she needs to hear, and they don't want to believe it either, this nightmare they're all living in now—but denial won't change anything.

"Where is Peter?!" Gamora is on the edge of hysteria now, trying to get up out of the bed again, as both Groot and Drax move to stop her. "Tell me where he..."

"Gamora," another voice suddenly echoes in the room, as three sets of footsteps enter the doorway.

Gamora momentarily gives up her struggle to get up at the voice, bringing wild, tear-filled eyes to look up at her sister.

" _Nebula_ ," she croaks, because the last time she'd seen her, Thanos had been literally tearing her apart until she confessed the location of the Soul Stone to save her...and everyone knew what had happened after that.

"You're _awake_ ," Nebula observes as she comes into the room, stepping around Drax and Mantis. Two men that Gamora has never seen before, both Terran with facial hair, one in a suit and one with a cape, follow in behind her.

"Well I'll be damned," the one in the suit whistles, looking at her in genuine surprise. "It actually worked. She's back."

"Well, we figured by now that she would pull through," the other man, with the cape, adds shortly, brows furrowed as he casually glances at her vitals monitor on the wall. "But it is still surprising."

Gamora ignores them both, turning back to Nebula as she approaches the bed. Nebula stops, hesitating for a moment, before uncharacteristically reaching out and grabbing her hand, squeezing hard. "It is good to see you, sister."

It is only because Gamora knows Nebula the way that she does that she can hear the unbridled emotion underlying her voice, barely noticeable to anyone else, but barely in check as far as Nebula goes.

"You too," she whispers, squeezing her cold metal hand back. "But Nebula...tell me where Peter is."

Nebula's eyes snap up in surprise at the rest of the Guardians, before she narrows her gaze. "You haven't told her?"

"Hey, we've been trying to," Rocket snaps, hairs standing up on end. He clears his throat roughly, wiping away at his tear-soaked fur. "She's not taking it the best. This isn't exactly the easiest thing to say, ya know."

"We have tried to explain, what happened to Peter," Mantis adds helplessly with a shrug and a sniffle. "It is very difficult, for all of us."

Nebula's scowl falls, and she nods in reluctant understanding, turning back towards Gamora, with an almost soft expression on her face—and Gamora has never been more terrified in her entire life.

"Nebula, please," her voice cracks, but she doesn't care, and Nebula squeezes her hand once again. "I have to find Peter."

"Gamora," she says quietly, but firmly, because Nebula doesn't really do gentle, "you already know what he did. He traded himself to the stone, for you. Soul for a soul."

"No," Gamora thinks she might be crying now, because her face feels wet, but she isn't really sure of anything happening right now. She's alive again, and Thanos is dead, but Peter isn't here, and _nothing_ makes sense. "But if I'm back, then Peter should be too. He's fine, I just need to find him..."

" _Sir_ ," a disembodied voice suddenly echoes throughout the room, startling all of the Guardians for a moment, _"I believe she may be experiencing the Five Stages of Grief, with the first stage being denial..."_

"Can it, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," one of the Terran men—Stark, she learns later—says sharply, and the voice pauses. "This is not helping right now, got it?"

" _Yes, sir,"_ the voice answers, and then goes quiet once again.

But Gamora doesn't have time to worry about what the hell that just was. She looks back at Nebula, pleading, because Nebula is never one to break things gently, and she doesn't handle her with kid gloves. She'll tell it to her straight, no matter what it is, no matter how painful. She can trust her sister to tell her the truth.

When her sister finally replies...the truth is more painful than anything Gamora ever could have imagined.

"Gamora, I'm—I'm sorry," Nebula sighs heavily, and she actually looks remorseful.

"Quill is dead."

 _Denial_.

* * *

"I'm only going to say this one more time...Get. Out. Of. My. _Way_."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady, come on!" the kid before her raises up his hands in a placating manner. Gamora doesn't want to hurt him, super spider powers or whatever he has be damned, but she also isn't going to let him stop her.

"Look, Mr. Stark is trying to keep these things safe," the kid—God, his name is _Peter_ too—tries again, eyes wide with something akin to fear now as she strides toward him. "And I can't just let you break in there and take one, I'm really sorry."

"You're not going to _let_ me do anything," she snaps, voice low and threatening. "I'm getting the Soul Stone, but it will be much less painful for you if you don't try to stop me."

It's an incredibly new low for her, threatening some punk kid who has no right masquerading as a hero, but she's lost all sense of self since she lost Peter, reverting back to old, violent ways.

Which is why she is getting him back, as soon as she can get into Stark's vault and get her hands on the one stone that she needs. She just needs to get rid of Spider-Man—Peter Parker, that's his name—first.

He actually flinches a little as she comes closer, but stupidly refuses to move, still standing his ground.

"Wait, wait, wait," he tries again, still trying to block the final vault door with his body. There are alarms blaring all around at this point, but Terran security is nothing compared to the rest of the galaxy, and no one else is coming—yet—because Gamora has already confronted them all. It will be a little while before they catch up to her, but her time frame is quickly dwindling. She just needs to get rid of the kid.

"Star-Lord, I-I mean Quill," Peter Parker stammers, still trying to stall her, "on Titan, when we were together, when we fought Thanos..."

"Get to the _point_ ," Gamora growls, one step from removing him by any means necessary, hoping that her anger is hiding how she nearly stumbled at his unexpected use of the name _Star-Lord_.

"He was fighting for you," the kid looks at her with wide, pleading eyes. "All he wanted was to get you back, and then he thought he lost you, and then he _did_ get you back..."

Gamora can't help it then, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him up against the frame of the door in his shiny spider suit, body shaking from fury as she glares at him, opening her mouth to yell at him to stop.

He winces at the impact but continues softly before she can. "...so maybe it would be best if you didn't do this, ya know? It's not what he would've wanted."

She chokes back a cry of rage, dropping him carelessly to the floor, but his nimble reflexes insure he lands gracefully back on his feet. "Don't you _dare_ pretend to know what he would've wanted! You barely knew him!"

Peter Parker shrugs, a sad smile on his face. "I know he loved you, a lot, or he wouldn't have gone off on Thanos with his bare hands, and he wouldn't have..."

He trails off, gesturing with his head at the locked vault of stones behind him. He doesn't need to finish his sentence.

"The kid's right," a familiar voice says from behind her, and Gamora growls again, wheeling around to see a bruised Tony Stark—from her earlier encounter with him—as well as Thor, Dr. Strange, Natasha Romanoff...

...and the rest of the Guardians.

She glares at them all angrily, eyes narrowed. She hadn't expected them to rally so quickly, but no matter, because nothing is going to stop her now, not when she's gotten this far. And damn it, she respects most of this other team—the Avengers—and she knows that they are allies, really, and they had helped stop Thanos and save the universe...

...but they don't understand that she needs the stone. She needs the stone so she can save Peter, and she is _furious_ that they think it is too dangerous to mess with the stones, that they have all collectively agreed to have them somehow destroyed or at least hidden away again, rather than let her attempt to bring Peter back.

She's even more furious that the Guardians have seemed to agree with them.

Gamora snarls as she looks back at them, body already in fighting stance. "No, he's wrong, and so are all of you. You can't stop me from doing this."

"You're not giving us a choice," Strange says with a sigh, and if he didn't have such a smug look on his face, Gamora might actually think he was being sympathetic. She feels a little pang of satisfaction at the black eye that is currently swelling up on his face, thanks to her earlier confrontation with him.

"We don't want to do this," adds Natasha, and even though she is moving a little gingerly right now, she has begrudging respect for her as a fellow warrior, and her sympathetic tone actually seems sincere. "But we can't let you take the Soul Stone. I'm sorry."

"Then maybe _you_ ," Gamora points an accusing finger at all of them, finally landing on the Guardians, "shouldn't have let Peter take it in the first place!"

Rocket flinches, and Mantis looks away. Drax and Groot both give her long, apologetic looks. None of them say anything yet, still too broken over making the hardest decision they've ever made—not trying to get Peter back at the risk of the safety of the universe, because the stones and the timelines were just too close for them to know if they'd accidentally undo everything.

They can't risk Thanos being alive again, even if it means they lose Peter too.

And they know how much Gamora hates them for it.

"Listen, Greenie," Stark replies, taking a foolishly dangerous step closer to her, notably limping from the first time he'd tried to stop her today, "we didn't _let_ your boyfriend take anything. He got in there somehow and got the stone, before we even realized what he was doing. He wanted you back, and nothing was going to stop him..."

Gamora growls, striding forwards, and she can tell how much Stark wants to take a step back as she approaches him, because he knows what she is capable of now, but he stubbornly stands his ground. Her voice is low, threatening, as she looks him directly in the eyes. "And nothing is going to stop me now. I'm getting him back."

"Lady Gamora," Thor interrupts, seeing how close she is to back handing Stark again, and she glances over at him. "I understand your rage, and your grief, but we don't know that using the Soul Stone could even bring him back."

"It brought me back," she snaps back, turning away from Stark and towards him. "So there's no reason that we can't get Peter back, too."

"That won't work," Strange adds with a frown. "The Soul Stone needs a trade, a soul for a soul, and you already know that."

Gamora does know that, and she intends to trade herself for Peter, to undo what he's done. She hasn't said it aloud, but she knows the rest of them have already figured that out anyway.

"Gamora, come on," Rocket's tired voice finally chimes in, "we know you want to trade yourself back for Quill...but you know that ain't gonna work."

"You can not make the same trade again," Thor muses quietly, recapping what they'd already learned about the stone. "If you intend to trade yourself back for Peter Quill, that will not work. You can not trade the same soul twice."

But Gamora is damned determined to try.

"And as much as we miss Quill," Drax adds gently, "it would mean losing you again, so this is no solution. Our family is already torn apart, and we don't yet know the full consequences of dealing with the stones..."

Drax trails off for a moment, looking at her with both understanding and sadness. "And we can not chance losing _both_ of you."

Gamora steps back from the group closing in, closing her eyes and shaking her head, refusing to listen to them. She opens her eyes and glares at all of them, her body shaking with barely restrained anger. "No, you don't understand! We can't just leave Peter trapped there for the rest of eternity, you don't _know_ what it was like. We can't just let him die..."

She chokes back a sob, rising unbidden from her throat, clenching her fists so tightly to ground herself that she's drawing blood from her palms.

"Look, we're sorry, really," Stark adds, sounding more sincere than he has this whole time, the normally self-assured look gone from his face, "but if we let you use that stone, it could potentially undo everything. We got lucky that Quill didn't do it the first time when he saved you...and we just can't risk that again."

Gamora snarls through her tears, looking at all of them in a mix of anger and desperation. "Then why didn't you stop him?! Peter shouldn't be the one who's gone, how could you let him do this?"

Although it's a baseless, angry accusation, Gamora wants to blame somebody, anybody, for not stopping Peter. Especially the Guardians, because they should've _known_ that Peter would do something that reckless when it came down to it.

When it came to her.

"We're very sorry," Mantis replies in a trembling voice, eyes mournful. "We did not know that Peter would do _that_."

"I am Groot," Groots adds sadly.

"Yeah, we knew how broken up Quill was about you, I mean, we all were," Rocket sighs heavily, "but honestly, we didn't think he'd go this far. We didn't even believe that he could save you...and that was a mistake on our part, Gamora."

"But there was really never any stopping him from making rash decisions," Drax looks at her knowingly, "especially when it came to you."

Gamora knows that they're right, but it doesn't make her any less angry, because if she's not angry, she's sure she'll fall apart. She glares at the Guardians, body shaking with pure rage and grief. "This is all _your_ fault! You all were supposed to look out for him, you should have stopped him from doing this! It shouldn't have been Peter—it should have been _you_!"

Her words are angry, broken, and she collapses to her knees in front of the vault door, feeling like all of the fight has been sucked out of her. She doesn't mean that, not really, but she doesn't know who else to blame...except for herself. And Peter.

"It should have been me," she whispers painfully, but they can all hear her. "He shouldn't have brought me back. How could he? How could he _do_ this?"

"He loved you," Peter Parker chimes in softly from behind her, still trying to keep her from tearing the vault door off of its hinges.

The kid is right.

But it doesn't make it any less painful.

She staggers back to her feet, ready to fight to the bitter end, even against her own family, because she can't just give up now, can't give up on Peter now. Just as she braces herself for the fight, another voice suddenly appears from behind her.

"Gamora, enough."

Gamora wheels around to see Nebula now there, standing next to Peter Parker, and she silently curses herself for letting her sister get the jump on her. Nebula is the only one of them who could, really.

"Nebula," Gamora warns, but the venom in her voice is now mixed with sorrow, desperation.

"Quill is gone," Nebula reminds her, and although her voice isn't gentle, Gamora can read the sympathy in her eyes, and she almost breaks.

She makes one last, desperate attempt, lunging for the vault door, but Nebula stops her before she even reaches the handle.

Gamora goes down in a tumbled mess of limbs and fists as her sister stops her, screaming Peter's name.

 _Anger._

* * *

It's late at night when she walks into the lab, but she knows that they're still in there.

She's mildly surprised that there isn't more security after her attempt to get the the Soul Stone.

She also realizes that she's definitely being watched by Stark's A.I., and that the whole team could descend on her again in seconds if she makes one wrong move, tries to steal the stone again.

But that's not why she's here. Not this time.

Gamora finds herself leaning in the doorway of Stark's lab, not feeling the need to announce her presence yet, silently waiting in the shadows. She has no doubt they already know that she's there, but not because they've seen or heard her—she's too good for that—but Stark's tech has been keeping tabs on her ever since...well, since Peter.

She watches Stark and the other doctor—Banner—concentrate on a new experiment, on what she's not sure, maybe something to distract their minds from recent events. She still doesn't speak for several moments as she trains her watchful gaze on them.

"So, are you just going to watch us, or would you like to talk?" Banner finally says quietly, looking up at her. Gamora walks slowly into the room, stopping next to him as he pushes his glasses back up his face, squinting at the screen in front of him. Stark doesn't say anything, just gives her a grunt and a nod of greeting as he continues moving data points around on the touch screen projection in front of him, pulling up several other displays.

Things are still a little tense since her attempt at taking the stone, but all of them understood her motivation. They'd all lost people they loved in the battle against Thanos, and that type of miserable company stuck together, in the face of tragedy and loss, looking for hope once again. Gamora hasn't given up hope...not yet. She gets right to the point.

"I want you to bring him back."

She doesn't even bother to hide the pleading in her tone.

Banner sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. "You know we would if we could."

Stark finally turns toward her, minimizing another screen projection and straightening up, his back audibly cracking. His face is drawn, lined. "Listen, I know how much you want Quill back, and I get it, I really do. Hell, if these things could bring back Rogers..."

He pauses, dragging a hand roughly down his face, but Gamora doesn't miss the flicker of grief cross his features at the mention of the fallen Avenger. She hadn't known Captain Rogers, but she had heard all about him since she had been back, and his brave final sacrifice to stop Thanos during the final battle.

It's unlikely that the stones could save him, since they weren't the reason he'd died...

...but there's still hope for Peter. That's why she's here.

Stark sighs, looking at her sadly but firmly. "We just can't."

But Gamora isn't ready to accept that yet, so she tries harder. "There has to be something, anything, we can do. _Please_."

She hates how weak she sounds, but she is too tired and defeated to care anymore. Nothing matters anymore, now that Peter is gone. She had tried to remember what her life had been like before him, but found that those horrific memories were now muddled and unclear, distant finally. Nothing had made sense before him, and the Guardians.

Nothing makes sense now.

Banner looks up and smiles sadly at her, shifting uncomfortably as he shoves his hands in his pockets. For someone who has a literal monster crawling beneath his skin, Gamora can't help but admire the quiet calm he always seems to exude. "We know you already asked Thor, and if anyone would have that kind of power, he would. I'm sorry."

"But what about the gamma radiation," she looks pointedly at Banner—she's learned a lot about the Avengers since she's been here—taking a step closer to them both, "or the serums, or the Wakandan technology, paired with the Asgardian magic...there has to be _something_ we can try," her tone is earnest now, foolishly hopeful. She knew she was surprising them both with this show of vulnerability, because by now they both knew her former reputation, and had _seen_ some of it in action. "If we used them in conjunction with the stone, to stabilize..."

"We can't do that," Stark cuts her off, giving her a pointed but understanding look. "It's never been done, other than what Quill pulled when he got you back—and if it has, I don't know how. We still don't know enough about how the stones work, or how they are all interconnected, exactly, even if we took what we think might be the right measures to keep the whole thing from blowing up in our faces."

"There's too many unknown variables," Banner adds quietly, giving her a small shrug. "We just don't know what else it could do, if we use that stone again."

"And using that stone again is the only way to save Peter," Gamora bites back, fists clenched at her sides as she tries to force down her anger again. Lashing out at them won't help, she's already tried fighting them—all of them—and it hadn't worked. Even if she could take potentially take down Stark right now before he activated his metal suit, she'd stand no chance against the Hulk, and she's smart enough to know that now.

It's not that she wants to hurt any of them, that's not what this is about—she's just ready to do whatever it takes to save the man she loves.

And as much as it hurts to understand, she knows they are just trying to do what's right, even when it's a difficult call, even when it means sealing the fate of those they lost.

Sometimes lives _do_ have to be traded.

But that doesn't make it any easier to accept.

"Look, we're still trying to find some alternatives," Stark replies, but he doesn't sound all that hopeful. "Right before Thanos came to Wakanda, apparently these guys," he gestures at Banner, meaning the rest of the Avengers, "tried to save our Android friend, Vision, who was basically up and running because of the Mind Stone. That's the most data we've ever gotten on one of the stones."

He pauses, shaking his head. "I mean, it didn't work in the end, and we couldn't save him, either—but the point is that we know more now then we did before."

"We also know that even though the stones all hold entirely different and incredibly powerful properties," adds Banner, "they are all interrelated with how they function, we just don't know yet to what extent."

"So what does that mean?" Gamora snaps in frustration, the edges of her voice tinged with desperation. She has to get Peter back, she _has_ to, but they aren't giving her any straight answers.

"It means any major changes with one stone will affect the others," Stark raises his eyebrows at her. "Like what you did with the Soul Stone when you helped stop Thanos."

"But I don't know _how_ I did that," Gamora protests, because she really doesn't, has been telling everyone that since they told her what had happened.

Apparently during the final battle with Thanos, the Soul Stone had weakened, or backfired somehow, and it had been a chain reaction to the rest of the stones, making Thanos just weak and vulnerable enough so that they were finally able to kill him for good.

And all of them think it was because of her. Because she was trapped inside the Soul Stone, fighting back against Thanos once she realized what he was doing in the real world, and that she had somehow inadvertently subdued the stone's power drastically enough that it had eventually led to his downfall.

Gamora would like to believe that, but all she had felt inside the stone was trapped and powerless, and even though she had tried to fight back against it when she felt Thanos abusing its power, she hadn't thought that anything she'd done had actually _worked_.

She still isn't sure that it did, but the rest of the Avengers and the Guardians seem to think so.

Peter had thought so too.

It had been the reason, in fact, that he had believed she was still in there, that she still could be saved, and had subsequently gotten the stone and made the trade for her.

Gamora still hasn't forgiven him for it.

"Yeah, either do we," Stark replies with a long sigh. "But I'll say this, as much as Quill was a pain in the ass and really outdated on his Earth references..."

He pauses suddenly, throwing up his hands in surrender at the glare Gamora levels at him. "Okay, okay, look, what I'm trying to say is that Quill was a good guy, and we wouldn't have been able to beat Thanos without him. He was the one that figured out the Soul Stone was weakening, and that Thanos was losing power. We would probably all be dead right now if it wasn't for him...and you."

Gamora has already heard this too, how Peter had been the one to figure out that Thanos was losing power, so that they could devise a plan to win...and how it had made him realize that _she_ was still there, still able to be saved, trapped inside the stone.

She nods, swallowing thickly around the words caught in her throat, unable to answer.

Stark nods back in understanding, turning back to the projections in front of him and frowning. "We're still trying to figure out how these overpowered pop rocks function, but this is something we still don't have a clue how to harness the power of."

"Or how to destroy them," Banner adds quietly, and Gamora's heart clenches. That had already been a heated discussion earlier, about what to do with the stones...but destroying them, if that was even possible, would mean that Peter was truly gone forever.

She takes in a deep breath to steady herself, staring at both of them intently. "We can't destroy them."

"And we can't use them either," Stark says quietly but firmly. "I'm sorry but..."

"Enough," Gamora replies sharply, voice laced with pain, putting up one of her hands to silence him. Stark and Banner get it and don't press any further, both of them nodding in sad understanding.

Gamora turns and leaves the lab as silently as she had come, wishing that she had any type of miraculous power, or if she knew how she had used the Soul Stone while she was in there—something, anything, that could bring Peter back.

For all of the things that she was capable of doing, she had never felt so powerless.

 _Bargaining_.

* * *

It's quiet here.

That's because there's no one left.

Knowhere is a ghost town. There's no one around, no one left in the remains that Thanos had left behind after he had decimated it for the reality stone, right before she and the team had confronted him in the ruins of the Collector's museum.

Right before he had taken her from Peter. Other than their encounter in the Soul Stone—that was the last time she had seen him.

That was the last time she had seen him _alive_.

Gamora stumbles ungracefully as she walks through the crumbled building and heaps of rubble that used to house Tivan's collection. There's nothing left of it now, not even him, and she assumes he didn't make it out when Thanos took the reality stone.

It's foolish now to think they ever could've stopped him, and Gamora can't help but wonder how things might have played out if they hadn't pursued him after Thor's warning. She might not have been taken and used as a sacrifice on Vormir...and Peter might not have had to sacrifice himself to bring her back.

It's a dangerous road, to think about the what-ifs and could-have-beens, and that was something Gamora had long ago learned not to do in her years under Thanos. There was no point in looking back, it was weak and foolish.

But now that she's lost the person she loved, more than anything...she can't help but think about it all the time.

If she hadn't been taken, and used as a sacrifice, if Peter hadn't traded himself for her, if they had never come to Knowhere to take on Thanos in the first place, if she had never met Peter at all...he might still be alive, be free and happy to live his life.

Instead of being trapped for all of eternity in her place.

At that painful thought, Gamora stumbles again as she walks through the ruins, tears streaming freely down her face now and blurring her vision. She stops in the middle of the rubble, burying her face in her hands as the tears come, unable to hold them back anymore.

 _Why Peter? Why would you do this? Why couldn't you just let me go?_

She doesn't think she's cried this much since she was a child and she lost her entire family and home to a madman who took _everything_ from her.

Now because of him, she's lost Peter too, and Gamora thinks this is what will finally break her.

Losing Peter is tearing her apart. She's a mere shell of the former assassin she once was, and the so-called fiercest woman in the galaxy is completely broken.

At least no one is here to see it.

Which is why she had left, suddenly and without warning, stealing the _Benatar_ in the middle of the night, even though it had left the rest of the Guardians—and Nebula—stranded on Earth.

She knows that Stark will put them up in his building in the meantime, so she hadn't been too worried. She had needed to get away, to be alone, to grieve and try to figure out how she was supposed to go on in a universe without Peter in it.

Drawing in a shaky breath and trying to force back her tears, Gamora reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket, unsteadily pulling out the Zune.

It had been one of Peter's most precious possessions, and just hearing the Terran music he had so loved made it feel like he was right there with her.

She closes her eyes, tears still streaming down her face, before sticking the earbuds in her ears and pressing play.

 _Ain't no mountain high enough_

 _Ain't no valley low enough_

 _Ain't no river wide enough_

 _To keep me from getting to you babe_

Her heart clenches as the familiar lyrics fill her ears, knowing how much Peter had loved this song, how thrilled he had been to find a familiar song from his mother's sacred mixtapes also on the Zune.

It had been one of the only things he'd had left from his mother, and later, from Yondu.

And now it's one of the only things she has left of him.

That sharp, painful realization hits her like a hammer, and it feels like her chest is seizing, her heart breaking, and she can barely breathe.

She's felt grief before, known tragedy, lost her family and her home, been tortured and manipulated and forced to carry out the genocide of someone who claimed to love her as his own.

She's even _died_ , technically—because of that so-called love—but this is the worst pain she's ever felt.

Peter dying for her, sacrificing himself to the stone so that she could live, is something she doesn't know how to deal with.

When she's not impossibly angry, at the circumstances that have forced this to happen, at Thanos for his part in everyone's misery, at Peter for saving her, at the others for _letting_ him, at herself for living...

...then she just feels empty and numb and hopeless.

Being angry is easier, and something she knows how to work with, how to channel her energy into.

This deep, dark, bone crushing feeling of loss is something Gamora isn't sure how to handle. It's not something she can just push down and keep moving forwards with, like she's been able to do before, out of necessity. She'd been so young and terrified when Thanos had taken her, she hadn't had much time to grieve the family and life she'd lost, focused on her survival as a scared, manipulated child.

Now, with Thanos dead and the danger finally gone—all she can think about is Peter. She's slowly being swallowed whole by her grief, at her inability to do anything to save him, like he'd done for her.

But Gamora knows Peter probably planned it that way. He wouldn't have wanted her to just turn around and bring him back, at the expense of her life yet again, and he must have either somehow known that the Soul Stone wouldn't accept the same trade twice...or that the Guardians would be able to stop her.

She simultaneously loves and hates him for it, and she feels a familiar surge of anger rise up through her again, and she latches onto it, desperate to feel anything else.

Anger she can work with.

Gamora's eyes snap open, and she unsheathes Godslayer in one smooth movement, narrowing her focus, tears now gone and replaced by a cold, hard stare.

What little is left of this place she is going to tear apart.

Her movements are beautiful in their violence, almost in rhythm to the songs echoing in her ears through the Zune, as she hacks and swings and destroys the remains of the Collector's former home.

But it won't end here. No, she is going to destroy the rest of Knowhere before she's done, to make sure that this awful place can never rebuild itself again, so that no one else could ever be hurt by the evil of this place ever again.

Just as soon as she figures out to cause an explosion big enough—Ego briefly comes to mind—that will take down this entire planet.

Without Rocket's expertise, it will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, she hadn't needed it when she'd destroyed _Sanctuary II_ and the remaining ships from Thanos' fleet, her first stop after leaving Earth. All of the evil that Thanos had touched will be eradicated from the universe before she's done. She'll rid the universe of any remaining evil, of anything else tied to Thanos, no matter what it takes.

She'll burn Knowhere to the ground if she has to.

Even if it means taking herself out with it, but she can't find it in herself to care that much about that anymore.

She's breathing and panting and there's a strong ache in her arms from hacking through the rubble, intermittently yelling out in anger as she takes out all of her pain and grief and aggression on the metal and stone around her, before she finally sees it, and realizes it's what she needs to complete her self-appointed—and possibly suicide—mission.

At the very back of the Collector's museum are three large, towering generators, that had previously powered the electricity and security systems of this place, as well as several surrounding areas of Knowhere that the Collector had no doubt overcharged the locals for as a power source.

The far left one is partially collapsed and melted, smoke still wafting up from the damaged coils and bent pipes, but the other two still stand, tall and menacing over the ruins of Knowhere.

Gamora pauses, staring up at the massive generators, chest still heaving from exertion. This is exactly what she needs.

If she can use these generators to cause an explosion, it would be enough to at least take out the surrounding areas, and if she does it correctly...cause a chain reaction to the rest of Knowhere, obliterating the planet for good.

She also realizes that it will leave her little time to make it back to the Benatar and escape, but it doesn't bother her as much as it should.

Firmly pushing that thought away, she starts making a fire at the base of the generators, to make them overheat. With their already compromised systems, it won't be very hard. She turns off the coolant systems—it was too easy, really—and closes all of the vents to make sure the heat and pressure builds inside _quickly_.

Gamora just needs one last thing to make sure this really works.

She swallows thickly, squaring her shoulders and reaching again into the leather jacket of her coat. Her fingers close around the rough, rounded metal, as she pulls out one of Rocket's grenades.

She stares at it for a long moment, before taking a deep breath, and looking back at the quickly building fire at the base of the generators. She can already hear the telltale creaks and moans of the metal from the inside of the giant machines as the pressure builds. Adding the grenade at precisely the right moment will make sure that these generators level this half of Knowhere, at least what's left of it.

Gamora clenches her jaw in determination, because this is what needs to be done. Tears streaming down her face yet again, she gets ready to throw the grenade and run...although she's pretty sure she won't be fast enough to make it.

If she does die, at least it'll be with some sort of a purpose, she supposes, and she hopes that the Guardians—and Peter, if he could see her—will understand.

She frowns, shaking her head as she briefly imagines Peter screaming at her to stop, that he didn't trade places with her for her to just turn around and be so careless with her own life.

"I'm sorry, Peter," she whispers aloud, even though she knows he can't hear her, because she knows what it was like to be trapped in the Soul Stone, forever alone, but she can't help herself, trying desperately to get some closure that she won't ever get. "I'm just doing what I have to do...please try to understand."

Deep down, she knows he wouldn't, that he would be screaming, pleading, that this isn't worth her life, that it won't change anything. She can picture it so clearly that she can almost _hear_ it.

"I don't know what else to do," she murmurs hoarsely, shaking her head at herself, talking to a ghost that isn't even there. "You shouldn't have saved me...I don't, I don't know how to do this without you..."

She trails off, clutching the grenade even more tightly in her hand. "I love you. Please forgive me."

But Peter isn't there, and the only answer she gets is the cold, harsh wind and echoing silence of the ruins around her.

Before she can even throw the grenade in her foolish attempt at retribution, she hears someone distantly calling her name.

"Gamora... _wait_!"

She curses, in disbelief that she was caught so off guard that she didn't hear anyone coming, ripping the earbuds out of her ears and clenching the grenade tightly in her hand. She wheels around to see the rest of the Guardians approaching her, with Nebula—and is that _Kraglin_?—in tow.

They finally make it within a few feet of her, weaving around the piles of destruction left behind by Thanos.

Before they can even say anything else, Gamora barks at them, hiding her grief behind irritation. She had been so _close_ to completing her mission. "How did you find me?"

"Well, we had to find a ride, for one," Rocket huffs, jerking a padded thumb at Kraglin, who shrugs in confirmation.

Of course. They must have contacted him to come for them with the _Quadrant_ , once they realized that she had taken the _Benatar_ and left them all behind.

"It wasn't hard to follow your trail of destruction," Nebula narrows her eyes at her, although Gamora can see the barely hidden concern there. "Predictable."

"Yeah, that was quiet a number you did back there on Thanos' old fleet," Rocket whistles, raising an eyebrow at her. "We weren't even sure you made it outta there, at first."

She barely had, but they don't need to know that.

"I am Groot!" Groot grumbles, staring at her.

"Yes, we would have come with you," Drax agrees, almost pouting, "if you had advised us of your plan, instead of leaving us on Terra."

Nebula spits in disgust. "I can't believe you left me there."

Gamora knew how she felt about her time on Earth.

"Either can we," Drax adds, but his voice is more solemn now, expression concerned. "We do not leave family behind."

"We were very worried about you, Gamora," Mantis says, eyes wide and sad. "You left without saying goodbye."

"I am Groot," Groot mumbles petulantly, but Gamora can tell how hurt he is, try as he might to hide it.

"Look, I'm sorry I left without telling you," Gamora sighs, harsh look softening a little bit, but she really needs to get this show on the road if these generators are going to explode soon, "but I don't need you to follow me halfway around the galaxy. I just needed some space. I'm fine."

Rocket scoffs. "Nice try, but you already know that's not gonna work on us. _None_ of us are fine...'specially you," he pauses, ears flattening against his head, something he's been doing more now when they talk about everything they've lost, "but we get, Gamora...we really do."

"I am Groot," Groot adds sadly, and there is no trace of the indifferent teenager now, just sadness and understanding.

It breaks Gamora's heart to see him like this, to see all of them like this. She swallows down her reply, about how none of them could _understand_ , but that would be a lie. They all miss Peter—maybe not in the same way that she does—but they are all grieving for him.

"Yeah, we miss 'im a lot," Rocket agrees with Groot, turning back to her, "but you runnin' off in the middle of the night—with _our_ ship, by the way—isn't gonna help anything."

"We thought you were going to do something dangerous, or foolish," Drax nods, frowning heavily as he gestures at her hand still clutching the grenade, "turns out we were right."

"Wait a second," Rocket's eyes go wide as he finally notices what's in her hand, pointing a claw at her, "is that one of my grenades?!"

"Sure looks that way," Kraglin chimes in, forever helpful.

"Yes," Gamora sighs, standing up straighter. "I needed it to complete my mission."

"Your suicide mission, you mean," Nebula replies knowingly, and Gamora could punch her for it.

"I'm just doing what I have to do," she says shortly, squaring her shoulders at the mixture of hurt and disbelieving looks her family is giving her.

"So what," Rocket finally speaks after a moment, voice rising in anger and disbelief, "losing Quill wasn't bad enough, you decided to just go around blowing up everything you could in some sort of effort, to what, erase Thanos and all the freakin' misery he left behind, even if you freakin' died doing it?"

Gamora flinches at his words, at his anger, at how right he is, but she can't back down, not now. "I'm doing what needs to be done, but you don't understand, _none_ of you could understand!"

"Gamora," Mantis' voice is gentle, and sad, "we are all feeling a lot of pain, although you are feeling the most, but I do not think we could take it if we also lost you. Losing Peter already hurts so much."

Drax takes a step closer to her, meaning to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but stopping when she flinches and backs away. He puts his hand back down, sighing heavily. "Gamora, you must know how much you mean to us, to this family. We've already lost Quill, and we are all grieving for him—but we can not let that destroy our family. We have to take care of each other. That's what families do."

"I am Groot," Groot nods quickly in agreement, tears in his eyes.

Gamora shakes her head, and she's not crying again, she's _not_ , but having them here, all caring so much about her, is just overwhelming, and she doesn't think she deserves it. She's hurt them so much already, not intentionally, but her own grief has clouded her judgment, and she knows it.

"Being reckless with your own life now won't prove any points," Nebula says, voice softer now, and knowing, because they both know what it feels like to try and even the score your whole life. "It won't change anything."

"Ya know, Pete was always one to make these sorts of reckless decisions," Kraglin says, and this is the most Gamora has ever heard him talk, "but he only did it 'cause he cared so damn much. That's why Yondu always called 'im soft. But I always sorta thought it made 'im brave...not that I ever told 'im. I shoulda...so I'm gonna tell you now. Yer being brave, but stupid, and Pete wouldn't a wanted you to."

"You don't _know_ what Peter would've wanted!" Gamora finally snaps, and it's not the first time she's said these words, and it's also unfair. Kraglin, and the other Guardians, knew Peter too—Kraglin arguably most of all—but she still feels defensive when everyone tries to tell her that Peter wouldn't have wanted this.

They don't know what Peter would've wanted, none of them do, because Peter is dea...

She closes her eyes tightly, whole body trembling with anger and grief and emotion that she can no longer hide, no longer has the strength to hide, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her tears.

"Gamora," Rocket's voice is hoarse and strained, the anger now gone, replaced with sad understanding, "I know you think you gotta do somethin', anything, to try and escape the pain...but it won't work. Doin' this, it's not—it's not gonna bring Quill _back_."

His words are painful but true, and Gamora finally breaks.

 _Peter isn't coming back. He's gone._

She chokes out a sob, sinking to her knees in front of them, the grenade rolling carelessly out of her hand. She's barely aware of one of them safely picking it up, and someone else putting out the fire before the generators _do_ blow up with them still standing there so close by. She's barely aware of any of that because she's drowning, can't breathe, can't move, just wishing that she couldn't feel anything at all.

" _Peter_ ," she chokes, burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs, breaths coming in short, pained gasps. "Oh God, Peter, _no_..."

And just like that, her family is surrounding her, trying to comfort her with their strength and love. She's barely aware of strong arms all around her, a combination of bark and muscles and fur and metal and yellow skin and ravager leather, all closing in and holding her close. Some of them are whispering reassurances and soothing words, and some of them are crying along with her, and mostly they all are just refusing to let her go.

Before Peter, Gamora hadn't liked to be touched, was aversive to it in most every way. Now, it's the only thing she can cling to as she finally falls apart.

Later, as she watches from the safety of the _Benatar's_ portside window as Knowhere implodes, thanks to some help from the others—Gamora wishes it made her feel any better.

It doesn't.

 _Depression_

* * *

Gamora closes her eyes, inhaling deeply to take in the fragrant smells of the flowers and grass around her, to absorb the warm sun shining on her skin.

She can tell why Peter loved it here, growing up in Missouri...even if he was always too afraid to come back and confront the painful memories of his past.

Which is why Gamora is here now.

She exhales deeply, trying to center herself as she opens her eyes and stares at the iron wrought gate before her, at the neatly trimmed grass and rows of stones perfectly aligned behind the fence.

She has a mission to complete, one final thing that she needs to do...for Peter.

Walking forwards slowly, purposefully, Gamora enters the cemetery, moving carefully through each perfectly manicured row until she finds the one she's looking for—right where Stark had said it would be—and her heart stops in her chest.

 _Meredith Quill_

 _Beloved mother and daughter_

 _Never stop dancing_

Gamora's eyes fill with tears, as she kneels down and reverently fingers the edges of the stone, tracing a name she has heard a thousand times over the years, heard countless stories of love and laughter, a name she knows because of the undying love of her son.

But now he's gone too. The universe is cruelly unfair.

 _Peter_ should be the one doing this right now, not her, and she has to push down bitter tears at that fact. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, before she finally finds the words to speak.

"H-hello, Meredith," she begins shakily, "if you're there, if you can hear me..."

She trails off, unsure of what to say. She knew that Terrans believed in a higher power, that souls go to a place of salvation after death, and knew for a fact Meredith had believed that, from her final letter to Peter.

 _I'm going to a better place, and I'll be okay._

She knew Peter had believed that to some extent too, and had often mentioned that he might as well believe in that since his real father had been a literal god—albeit a real a-hole—and he'd been abducted by aliens as a child, both things he wouldn't have believed in before, so why not believe his mother was in a better place?

Gamora wants to believe it, too. _Needs_ to believe it.

It hurts more than she can bear that Peter didn't get to go wherever he thinks his mother went for the after life, to be reunited with her once again—because instead he's trapped in an eternal hell, inside the Soul Stone.

That hurts most of all, still hits Gamora like a sucker punch that takes her breath away when she thinks about that fact, because she knows _exactly_ how Peter is suffering, even if Peter willingly made that choice.

And they can't save him. He's gone. She's still trying to accept that...but she doesn't think it's possible.

She doesn't even have a grave, a place to mourn him, so she had to come to Meredith instead. All she has left are memories and a Zune in her pocket and a shared bedroom on the _Benatar_ that she still can't quite make herself go into.

Gamora wonders if Meredith knows what happened to her son, if she knows of all the brave and heroic things he accomplished before he made that final, foolish sacrifice play—for _her_.

Gamora needs the forgiveness of a dead woman she's never met, more than ever, because she didn't keep Peter safe from this fate.

But, more than anything else, she needs to make sure Meredith knows that her son was a _hero_.

With shaking hands, she pulls out Peter's mask, fully activated now, and sets it gently on Meredith's grave. It is unsettling and jarring to see the mask just staring up at her, red eyes erie and haunting, with no one behind it to wear it.

No one will ever wear the mask again. Gamora couldn't imagine anyone else _ever_ wearing it.

The rest of the Guardians had whole heartedly agreed—so much so that Rocket had rigged a self-destruct component if anyone else even tried—right before they'd also agreed to let her go to Missouri, alone this time, to complete this final task.

It was the least they could do, since they'd dragged her back to Earth in the first place.

"You'd have been so proud of the person he was," Gamora's heart clenches at the use of Peter in the past tense, and she doesn't think it's something she'll ever be used to, "he was so, _so_ brave, and he had the biggest heart..."

Tears are streaming silently down her cheeks, but weirdly she's smiling now, as she continues, telling Meredith about how her little Star-Lord grew up to be a real honest to goodness galaxy-saving hero.

She was so proud of him too, and telling Meredith—if she's really there, somehow—all about Peter and their life together and the man he'd become is more therapeutic than she ever could've imagined.

"...and he got all that from you," she finally finishes softly, kissing her fingers and gently pressing them against the mask, before standing slowly to her feet.

"Thank you, for raising such a wonderful man," she finishes quietly. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry I couldn't protect him—I'm sorry that I failed him..."

Her voice breaks, and she shakes her head, trying to regain her composure, before she painfully whispers one last thing to the stone before her.

"I loved him, more than anything. I always will."

With that, she turns and walks away, footsteps simultaneously heavy and light, leaving the stone and the mask behind her.

 _Acceptance_

Except she'll never accept it, not really, that Peter's gone because of her.

Her vision is blurred with tears as she leaves the cemetery, head swirling with grief and emotion and not knowing what to do next, feeling lost and aimless in a way she's never felt before.

She's so lost, in fact, that she doesn't know how long the holo has been ringing from the bottom of her bag.

It stops, then suddenly starts up again, a loud annoying chirp that's unmistakable anywhere in the galaxy, and Gamora blinks, shaking her head to clear the fog as the noise finally registers.

Whoever is trying to reach her is certainly being insistent, but she doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, doesn't think she _could_. Besides, the other Guardians, and Nebula, know where she is and what she is doing, so she keeps walking, ignoring it, headed back towards the road that will take her back to her hotel. Peter's hometown isn't very big, after all.

But it keeps on ringing and ringing, and Gamora swears under her breath, throwing the pack off her shoulder and furiously digging through it on the side of the road until she finds it, fingers closing around the hard square edges of the holo pad as she pulls it out.

Hastily wiping the tears from her face, she scowls as she sees Rocket's name and picture lighting up the holo screen display. With a loud huff, she answers the call.

"This better be important."

" _Geez, Gamora, what took so long?!_ " Rocket's impatient voice immediately replies, and she can see him with the rest of the Guardians crowded behind him on the display. _"I musta called like four times!"_

She feels a small pang of guilt at the accusation in his tone, and the worried looks on the rest of their faces. She knows they are anxious that she will take off again, or get herself killed, and after losing Peter, they haven't wanted to let her out of their sight.

She gets it, really.

Softening a little, she sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. Everything is fine. Can this wait..."

" _No, no, this news is most urgent!"_ Mantis all but shrieks from behind Rocket, and Gamora's enhanced hearing, even through the holo screen, makes it almost painful. She winces, before raising an eyebrow in concern.

"What is going on? Are all of you alright?"

" _I am Groot!"_ Groot chimes in, leaning in over Rocket's shoulder, and Gamora swears he's gotten taller since she's been gone.

" _Yes, we are all in good health,"_ Drax agrees, " _but we need you to come back to Stark's tower at once."_

Gamora furrows her brows in confusion, trying to read all of their faces through the screen, trying to stifle her growing worry. "Why, what's happening? Tell me what is going on."

" _Look, it would just be a whole lot better if we could tell ya in person,"_ Rocket answers, trying to sound causal, but his normally grouchy expression is a mixture of apprehensive and nervousness, and possibly excitement.

Honestly, she doesn't know what to make of it.

" _So, how soon can ya be back?_ " Rocket implores her further, and she can see the earnest and urgent looks the rest of the team are giving her.

"I will leave at once," she replies, but she narrows her eyes at them in concern. "But you all know how long a journey back this is. _Please_ tell me what is happening."

At this point, she can't take anymore unknowns, especially when it comes to them, to her _family_ , and they can see it clearly on her face, in the pleading tone she's barely hiding from them.

" _Just tell her."_

Gamora's eyes widen as Nebula walks into the screen as well, arms crossed and scowl ever present on her face, but a soft look in her eyes reserved just for her. Gamora breathes a sigh of relief, because Nebula can talk some sense into the rest of them.

She hopes.

They are just trying to protect her from something, probably...but that's what she's afraid of.

"Nebula," Gamora smiles at her, grateful to see her face, "do you know what's going on?"

Nebula gives a stiff nod, but there's something in her expression that Gamora can't quite read, even as well as she knows her, as well as she had taught her some of those expressions as a child warriors together. " _You need to come back here. Now."_

Gamora can feel her frustration growing, her unstable emotions and worry and concern and just everything in general growing quickly out of control. "Would you all just tell me what..."

" _They figured it out."_

Gamora stops, heart skipping a beat, as she levels her gaze at Rocket, who had spoken, apparently changing his mind on waiting until she came back. "Wait, they figured what out?"

She's too afraid to hope, because that's not possible.

Nebula glares at Rocket for stealing her thunder, but he merely shrugs, not sorry in the least. She sighs, turning back to Gamora. _"Stark and the others...they figured out how to use the stones."_

Gamora thinks her heart might literally leap out of her chest, and she forgets to breathe for a second.

" _Hey, don't forget us too,"_ Rocket scoffs, waving at the rest of the Guardians, " _we helped too, ya know._ "

" _I am Groot_ ," Groot nods quickly, giving Nebula a smug look.

" _But not as much as the others..."_ Drax says simply, but Gamora cuts him off before he can go on another tangent.

"What does that _mean_?!" Gamora's voice rises, desperate for answers now, because she can't dare hope again, not really, if there is nothing to really hope for. She couldn't survive it.

" _Gamora,_ " Mantis' voice is so gentle, and so happy, that she can practically feel it through the screen. " _They can save him."_

Gamora almost collapses right there, staggering to lean against a nearby tree, clutching the holo pad desperately in her other hand, her head swimming at those words, the words she's wanted to hear for _so_ long. "...w-what?"

Nebula is the one who speaks this time, and Gamora could swear she's almost smiling when she answers her.

" _They can bring Quill back."_

* * *

In the end, it's messy and chaotic and takes all the combined efforts of the Guardians and the Avengers, using a little bit of Asgardian magic and the Time Stone under Dr. Strange's guidance, paired with the Wakandan data from the Mind Stone and some help from another super powered Terran named Carol Danvers...

...but in the end, they do it. They undo the Soul Stone's power, and they save Peter.

It's a whirlwind of swirling wind and blinding lights and noise and chaos and people running around everywhere, but then Peter is there, shaking and gasping for air and barely conscious and very confused...but he's there. _Alive_.

Gamora hadn't dared hope that it would be possible, not since she'd stolen the _Benatar_ and gone on her suicide mission, that she would ever get him back.

She's never been so happy in her entire life.

Scooping him up into a sitting position from the ground, she immediately pulls him into her arms, and he slumps against her, still trembling and mumbling nonsensically in her ear, trying to get his bearings at being back in the land of the living.

It's beyond overwhelming—Gamora knows, after all—and she just clings to him, sobbing into his hair as she clutches him to her chest. She couldn't get words out right now if she tried. Peter is actually real, is actually alive, beyond all possibility, and she just tries to absorb it all in, to feel the warmth of his body against hers and anchor herself to the fact that she has him _back_.

While the Avengers leave to deal with the stones, the other Guardians gather around, relieved and ecstatic to see Peter back in one piece, but first giving her a moment with him when everything is so raw and new and just completely unbelievable.

And yet, it's real. Peter is here Peter is _here_ , in her arms. And he's okay. They should probably get him to the hospital and check him over, and let him rest, but for the moment, he's okay.

"...-G-Gamora?" he finally rasps against her, as awareness slowly comes back to him. She pulls him back slightly so that they are face to face, cupping his face in both hands. He reaches up a shaking hand to clutch one of her hands holding his face, lacing his tanned fingers against her long green ones, eyes wide with disbelief and confusion, teeth chattering together. "W-what...what's _happening_..."

"You're okay, Peter, you're _okay_ ," she croaks, tears still spilling down her cheeks, and now he's crying too, as he realizes that he's no longer trapped in the stone, but he's back with his family, and the woman he loves. He starts shaking harder, and Gamora keeps soothing him, pulling his focus back to her. "It's okay, I'm here, we're all here. You're back, you're safe now."

"...but how?" Peter coughs, shaking his head in disbelief, blinking slowly as he takes in the destroyed room and the rest of the Guardians standing around him, trying to piece together what the _hell_ happened. "How am I back?"

"We had a little help," Rocket answers quietly, and if there's tears in his eyes, no one comments on it. "But we'll fill you in on that later. It's, uh, _real_ good to have you back, Quill."

"I am Groot!" Groot waves at him, extending a branch to squeeze his shoulder before shyly pulling it back.

"Oh Peter, I am so overjoyed that you are okay!" Mantis beams at him, somewhere between crying and laughing, her antennae lighting the room. "We have missed you so very much!"

"We have our family back," Drax adds quietly but with meaning, reaching down to pat Peter's other shoulder with surprising gentleness. "We were lost without you."

Peter nods, tears streaming down his cheeks as he smiles at them all gratefully, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks. "Thank you, all of you...for bringing me back."

Gamora turns his head back towards her then, and kisses him for all she is worth. Later, she'll yell at him yet again, for making another selfish, foolish, self-sacrificing move on her behalf, and how his recklessness had _actually_ gotten him killed this time, but this is the one chance they had to save him, so he had better not waste it...

But she'll do that later. Right now, she wants to kiss the person she loves more than anything else in the world, just beyond grateful that she gets another chance to do so.

Sometimes, the universe does surprising things. Gamora is learning how to appreciate it.

She pulls back, running a hand through his hair, smiling even through her tears, as she echoes his own words from the Soul Stone back to him. "I couldn't let you go."

Peter just nods, swallowing thickly and studying her face, before pulling her to him and pressing their foreheads together, echoing some all too familiar words back to her...but this time, with relief and happiness.

"I love you, more than anything."

And Gamora has never meant anything else more in her life than when she replies.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **After all that, we needed a happy ending for these two.**

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed my first venture into the GOTG fandom.**

 **I have a few ideas for some multi chapter Starmora fics, so I may start posting one (or all of them) soon, and see where the muse takes me.**

 **Until then,**

 **Fictional**


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